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THE    CITIZEN'S   LIBRARY 


roundations  of  Sociology  . 


BY 


EDWARD  ALSWORTH  ROSS,  Ph.D. 

PROFESSOR    OF   SOCIOLOGY  IN   THE 
UNIVERSITY  OF   NEBRASKA 

AUTHOR  OF   "social  CONTROL*' 


FOURTH  EDITION 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN  AND  CO..  Ltd. 
I9IO 

All  rights  reserved 


4i" 


Copyright,  igos 
By  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

Set  up  and  electrotyped.    Published  April,  1905 

Reprinted  June,  1906 
Reprinted  July,  1907 
Reprinted  Oct.,   19 10 


The  Mason-Henry  Press 
Syracuse,    New    York. 


f^^yi^' 


THE   CITIZEN'S   LIBRARY 


OF 


ECONOMICS,  POLITICS,  AND 
SOCIOLOGY 


EDITED   BY 
RICHARD  T.  ELY,  Ph.D.,  LL.D. 

PROFESSOR    OF    POLITICAL  ECONOMY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  WISCONSIN 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 


To  My  Honored  Colleague 
Professor  George  Elliott  Howard 


EQUALLY   RENOWNED  FOR 

THE   EMINENCE  OF  HIS   SCHOLARSHIP 

AND  THE    LOFTINESS   OF  HIS    CHARACTER 


This  Book  is  Dedicated 


248535 


PREFACE 

To  the  student  of  society  present  themselves  the 
questions,  What  is?  What  has  been?  What  tends 
to  he?  What  may  he?  The  first  calls  for  descrip- 
tive sociology ;  the  second  evokes  historical  sociology ; 
the  third  summons  into  being  theoretical  sociology ; 
the  fourth  is  a  demand  for  practical  sociology.  In  a 
way,  however,  the  first  two  are  tributary  to  the  third. 
Laws  and  generalizations  are  the  coveted  treasure  of 
those  who  know,  and  therefore  the  inquiry  which  es- 
tablishes what  tends  to  he  yields  the  sociology  that 
ranks  with  such  sciences  as  biology  and  psychology. 

We  seek  truth  not  merely  for  the  pleasure  of 
knowing,  but  in  order  to  have  a  lamp  for  our  feet. 
We  toil  at  building  sound  theory  in  order  that  we 
may  know  what  to  do  and  what  to  avoid.  Hence  all 
the  labors  of  social  investigators  finally  empty  into 
practical  sociology.  This  branch  first  frames  a 
worthy  and  realizable  ideal  and  then,  availing  itself 
of  theoretical  sociology,  indicates  what  measures  will 
so  take  advantage  of  the  trend  of  things  as  to  trans- 
mute the  actual  into  the  ideal.  The  goal  set  up  may 
be  a  far-off  social  Utopia ;  but  again  it  may  be  noth- 
ing more  radical  than  the  stamping  out  of  alcoholism, 
the  suppression  of  war,  or  the  increase  and  diffusion 
of  knowledge  among  men.  Society  is  to  be  led 
toward  the  goal  along  routes  intelligently  laid  out 


PREFACE 

with  due  regard  to  human  nature  and  to  the  obscu# 
tendencies  that  lurk  in  the  social  deeps. 

Whether  we  like  it  or  not  men  are  becoming  con-? 
scious  of  their  social  existence.  It  is  no  longer  pos- 
sible for  them  to  take  their  institutions  in  the  naive, 
unconscious  way  of  barbarians.  Looking  across 
frontiers  and  centuries  they  come  to  know  too  much 
about  the  practice  of  other  times  and  peoples  to  pre- 
serve an  unshaken  confidence  in  an  institution  they 
cannot  rationally  justify.  If  to-day  a  people  clings 
to  its  own  type  of  family  or  school  or  criminal  code 
when  they  are  put  to  the  question,  it  does  so  on  as- 
signable grounds ;  and  if  it  gives  them  up,  it  will  re- 
nounce them  for  explicit  reasons.  Now  that  every 
social  arrangement,  however  venerable,  is  required 
to  submit  its  credentials,  the  demand  for  a  valid  soci- 
ology must  grow.  The  iconoclast  who  attacks  an 
institution  in  the  name  of  a  certain  theory  of  society 
is  met  by  a  conservative  who  withstands  him  in  the 
name  of  another  theory  of  society. 

The  solution  of  the  larger  social  problems  demands 
not  only  special  data  but  also  the  light  of  general 
principles.  The  heaping  together  of  all  the  perti- 
nent facts  does  not  equip  us  to  deal  successfully  with 
the  drink  problem,  the  woman  question,  race  friction 
or  the  factory  labor  of  children.  We  need  to  know 
the  sympathetic  connections  that  bind  the  phenome- 
na we  are  dealing  with  to  other  masses  of  social  fact. 
We  must  have,  moreover,  some  notion  of  what  has 
been  and  what  tends  to  be  in  this  particular  sphere 
of  social  life,  lest  we  waste  our  strength  in  vainly 


PREFACE 

trying  to  dam  a  stream  of  tendency  we  might  be  able 
to  guide.  Not  unpractical,  then,  are  those  who  with- 
draw a  little  from  the  perplexities  of  the  hour  in 
order  to  work  out  a  body  of  general  social  theory. 
They  are  like  the  irrigator  who  diverts  the  water 
farther  up  stream  and  loses  a  season  in  building  a 
longer  canal,  in  order  at  last  to  lead  an  ampler  flow 
upon  a  wider  tract 

It  will  be  long  before  sociology  becomes  so  exact 
that  it  can  affirm  of  a  policy  "This  is  scientific;  con- 
sider no  other r  What  we  may  reasonably  hope  for 
is  that,  as  the  laws  of  social  phenomena  come  to  light, 
many  extreme  proposals  will  be  barred  from  consid- 
eration and  the  intelligent  public  will  center  its  atten- 
tion upon  a  smaller  number  of  policies.  Thus  we 
already  begin  to  see  autocracy  and  anarchy  elimi- 
nated as  projects  of  government  and  sacrament  and 
contract  shut  out  as  theories  of  the  marriage  relation. 
The  growth  of  sociology  is  likely  to  confine  within 
ever  narrower  limits  and  focus  upon  an  ever  smaller 
number  of  measures  the  discussions  relating  to  fam- 
ily, property,  association,  education,  crime,  pauper- 
ism, colonization,  migration,  class  relations,  race  re- 
lations, war,  and  government. 

An  authoritative  body  of  social  theory  exists  at 
present  as  aspiration  rather  than  fact.  In  this  vol- 
ume the  writer  has  ventured  on  little  beyond  the  lay- 
ing of  foundations.  The  erection  upon  them  of  an 
enduring  superstructure  is  a  task  for  the  future. 
Edward  Alsworth  Ross. 

Lincoln,  Nebraska,  April,  1905. 
ix 


CONTENTS 


Preface 


I 

The  Scope  and  Task  of  Sociology 
The  subject-matter  of  sociology 
The  problem  of  the  special  social  sciences 
Their  lack  of  a  scientific  frontier 
The  integral  character  of  social  life 
Necessity  of  a  comprehensive  science  of  society 
Relation  of  the  social  specialisms  to  sociology 

The  science  of  religion 

Ethics 

Politics 

Comparative  jurisprudence     . 

Genetics,  noetics  and  aesthetics 

Economics       .... 

II 

The  Sociological  Frontier  of  Economics    .    •    . 
Social  factors  in  the  movement  of  population  . 
Social  determinants  of  the  time  of  labor  . 
*^Social  origins  of  commercial  probity  . 
Economic  aberrations  due  to  human  groupings 
Social  factors  in  consumption    .        .        .        . 
Mob  mind  in  the  business  world     .    . 
Economics  in  relation  to  sociology  .  . 

Ill 

Social  Laws 

The  analogical  interpretation  of  society    . 
Misapplications  of  physical  law    . 


3 

3 
8 

lO 

12 

14 
15 
i6 

17 
19 

22 
23 

25 


20 

29 
33 

33 
35 
Z^ 
39 
40 


M 
43 


CONTENTS 

Misapplications  of  biological  law  . 

Misapplications  of  psychological  law 
The  genetic  interpretation  of  society  . 
The  integral  development  of  society  . 
Identity  and  variety  in  paths  of  evolution 
The  prime  factors  in  social  destiny    . 
Social  laws  of  sequence 
Social  laws  of  manifestation 
Social  laws  of  causation 


48 
52 
55 
58 
60 
61 
63 
65 
66 


IV 

The  Unit  of  Investigation  in  Sociology      ...  71 

Defects  of  the  philosophy  of  history  ....  71 

The  comparative  method  in  social  study   •        •        •  73 

Dangers  of  taking  large  units  for  comparison      .     .  74 

The  advent  of  the  statist  icalmethod  ....  80 

Sociology  distinguished  from  the  science  of  history  81 

Ultimate  units  in  sociology 84 

Map  of  the  sociological  field 98 

V 

Mob  Mind 100 

The  characteristics  of  the  mob loi 

The  theory  of  the  mob 103 

Mob  mind  in  city  populations 106 

Mob  mind  in  the  public 108 

The  theory  of  the  craze 109 

The  theory  of  the  fad in 

Mob  mind  a  malady  of  our  time         .        .        .        .113 

VI 

The  Properties  of  Group-Units 116 

History  and  present  status  of  the  problem        .        .116 

Moral  and  intellectual  traits  of  associations      .        .  120 

The  crowd 120 

The  deliberative  assembly 129 

The  representative  body        .        .■       .        .        .  131 
xii 


CONTENTS 

The  public 133 

The  sect 135 

The  corporation 138 

Conclusion  and  summary   ......  144 

VII 

The  Social  Forces 14^ 

Causes  of  social  phenomena 149 

Desires  as  the  social  forces 154 

The  mechanical  theory  of  desire  .        .        .        .156 

The  psychological  theory  of  desire    .        .        .        .158 

The  plurality  of  desires 161 

The  classification  of  desires 165 

The  four  great  history-making  interests    .        .        .170 

The  interpretations  of  history 180 

VIII 

The  Factors  of  Social  Change 182 

Divisions  of  sociology 182 

Progress  versus  adaptation 184 

The  causation  of  social  change    .        .        .        .        .  189 

Causes  of  social  immobility 194 

Statico-dynamic  processes 197 

Transmutations 204 

Stimuli 206 

The  growth  of  population 207 

The  accumulation  of  wealth 217 

Migration  to  a  new  environment  ....  225 

The  innovating  individual 227 

Contact  and  cross-fertilization  of  cultures    .        .  234 

The  interaction  of  societies 238 

The  conjugation  of  societies  .....  249 

Alteration  in  the  environment       ....  253 

Summary 254 

IX 

Recent  Tendencies  in  Sociology 256 

The  processes  of  socialization 256 


xni 


CONTENTS 

The  group-to-group  struggle 272 

Original  differences  in  population      ....  290 

Derivative  differences  in  population  ....  sog 

Social  selections 327 

Special  bibliographies 34S 

X 

,y      The  Causes  of  Race  Superiority 353 

V  Race  versus  environment 353 

Climatic  adaptability 356 

Energy 358 

Self-reliance         ........  363 

Foresight 366 

The  value  sense 368 

The  martial  traits ^7^ 

Stability  of  character 27^ 

Pride  of  race 379 

Race  competition  and  race  suicide      ....  380 

Prospects  of  the  Americans 384 


XI 

The  Value  Rank  of  the  American  People 
Origins  of  the  American  breed    . 
Physical  characteristics  of  Americans 
Moral  characteristics  of  Americans    . 
Absence  of  intellectual  characteristics 
Decimation  and  dilution 
The  future  of  the  American  breed 


388 
389 
391 
392 
394 


XIV 


p 


FOUNDATIONS  OF 
SOCIOLOGY 


: 


FOUNDATIONS  OF 
SOCIOLOGY 


THE  SCOPE  AND  TASK  OF  SOCIOLOGY* 

We  are  told  that  the  subject-matter  of  sociology  is 
the  social  aggregate.  But  what  is  meant  by  the 
social  aggregate  ?  Where  does  it  begin,  where  end  ? 
Is  it  humanity,  the  race,  the  nation,  the  community, 
the  class,  or  the  voluntary  association?  "Study  the 
social  organism,'*  they  bid  us,  but  nowhere  do  we 
perceive  a  social  body  complete  in  itself,  with  head 
and  members,  periphery  and  viscera.  We  see  ex- 
tending everywhere  a  web  of  human  beings,  woven 
now  close,  now  loose;  binding  men  together  some- 
times with  many  threads,  sometimes  with  few ;  unit- 
ing them  at  times  directly,  oftener  indirectly, 
through  other  men,  or  through  centers  of  attachment 
such  as  common  interests,  ideals,  or  institutions. 
Where  in  this  continuous  tissue  shall  we  find  a  social 
cadaver  to  dissect  ? 

In  another  quarter  it  is  held  that  sociology  is  con- 
cerned only  with  the  action  of  human  groups  on  one 
another — social  phenomena — and  the  influence  of 
the  group  on  its  individual  members — psycho-social 

*  Vide  The  American  Journal  of  Sociology,  May,  1903. 
3 


FOUNDATXOIvIS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

phenomena.  According  to  Gumplowicz^  and  Bauer,^ 
not  social  wholes,  but  the  hundred  interlacing 
groups  into  which  men  combine,  are  the  proper 
subject  of  study.  This,  no  doubt,  is  an  enticing 
conception,  for  it  excuses  us  from  showing  how 
groups  form  and  how  a  group-type  or  a  group-will 
arises  out  of  the  play  of  mind  on  mind.  It  is  not 
clear,  however,  that  the  sociologist  may  igriofe  the 
genesis  of  the  group  any  more  than  the  biologist 
may  ignore  the  genesis  of  the  organism.  Then,  too, 
quite  aside  from  the  group,  there  are  man-to-man 
relations,  which  are  well  worth  studying.  How  the 
social  mystery  begins  to  clear  when  we  have  made 
out  such  typical  relations  as  those  between  model 
and  imitator,  apostle  and  disciple,  leader  and  fol- 
lower, between  two  dissentients,  two  competitors, 
or  two  comrades !  Yet  such  a  couple  is  not  a  group 
any  more  than  a  molecule  of  two  atoms  is  a  body  or 
a  binary  star  is  a  solar  system. 

Most  helpful  is  Simmel's  notion^  that  the  true 
matter  of  sociology  is  not  the  groups  themselves, 
but  the  modes  or  forms  of  association  into  groups. 
In  bodies  the  most  diverse — a  church  or  a  guild,  a 
trust  or  an  art  league — may  be  found  identical 
modes  of  union.  Despite  their  infinite  variety  of 
purpose,  the  groupings  of  men  reduce  to  a  few  prin- 
ciples of  association.  Among  such  "forms"  are 
equality,  superiority  and  subordination,  division  of 

*  "Sociologie  et  politique,"  sec.  20. 
'"Les  classes  sociales." 

'  "The  Problem  of  Sociology,"  Annals  of  the  American 
Academy  of  Pol.  and  Soc.  Science,  Nov.,  1895. 

4 


THE  SCOPE  AND  TASK  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

labor,  imitation  and  opposition,  secrecy,  and  hier- 
archy.    To  work  out  the  various  relations  in  which  / 
associates  may  stand  to  one  another,  and  to  discover  ( 
what  happens  to  groups  in  consequence  of  the  more  / 
or  less  of  each  relation,  is  the  task  of  the  sociologist.  ^ 

Nevertheless,  it  is  better  to  consider  this  attractive 
area,  not  the  domain  of  sociology,  but  only  one  of  its 
provinces,  viz.,  that  of  social  morphology.  The 
partialness  of  a  conception  which  focuses  our  gaze 
on  the  human  interactions  themselves  is  well  brought 
out  by  comparing  it  with  another  conception  which 
rivets  attention  on  the  results  or  products  of  these 
interactions.  For  Dr.  Ward  the  subject-matter  of 
sociology  consists  in  human  achievement.  How  do 
languages,  sciences,  and  arts  come  into  being? 
How  does  the  coral  reef  of  civilization  rise?  This 
is  certainly  one  of  the  most  fascinating  and  practical 
of  studies,  but,  as  Ward  distinctly  states,  it  does  not 
cover  all  the  ground.  His  superb  Pure  Sociology 
should  be,  perhaps,  the  second  or  third  volume  in  a 
complete  treatise  on  sociology.  For  how  can  you 
draw  a  firm  line  between  those  modes  of  human 
interaction  which  yield  a  permanent  product,  and 
those  which  leave  behind  them  no  lasting  result? 
Mobs  and  panics,  public  opinion  and  social  sugges- 
tion, are  certainly  worthy  of  study,  albeit  they  con- 
tribute nothing  to  the  sum  of  human  achievement. 
C  A  widening  circle  of  thinkers  make  sociology 
equivalent  to  the  science  of  association.  They 
would  have  it  deal  with  the  conditions,  motives, 
modes,  phases,  and  products  of  association,  whether 

5 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

animal  or  human.  Here  is,  indeed,  a  virgin  field  to 
till,  and  to  it  we  all  prudently  retire  when  our  neigh- 
bors complain  of  us  as  poachers  and  claim- jumpers. 
But  who  contents  himself  with  this  territory?  Pro- 
fessor Giddings  so  conceives  sociology,  yet  he  tells 
us  a  few  pages  farther  on  that  it  is  concerned  with 
"the  constant  elements  in  history."  All  sociologists 
are  keen  in  their  ambition  to  find  out  the  spfiiigs  of 
human  progress,  to  lay  bare  the  prime  causes  of 
social  transformations,  to  trace  the  influence  of  enJ 
vironment  on  the  character  of  population,  and  to 
correlate  the  various  phenomena  of  social  life. 
Yet  none  of  these  properly  belongs  among  the  prob- . 
lems  of  association. 

Social  psychology,  social  morphology,  social 
mechanics — all  of  them  are,  it  seems  to  me,  but  com 
venient  segments  of  a  science,  the  subject-matter  af 
which  is  social  phenomena.  I  say  "phenomena"  in 
preference  even  to  "activities,"  because  it  embraces 
beliefs  and  feelings  as  well  as  actions. 

"But,"  it  will  be  urged,  "what  phenomena  are 
social?  People  yawn,  sleep,  mope,  plan.  Is  this 
sort  of  thing  social  just  because  they  are  neighbors? 
The  solitary  ape  behaves  in  the  same  Way."  This 
query  cannot  be  better  answered  than  in  the  words 
of  Tarde :  "What  a  man  does  without  having  learned 
from  the  example  of  another  person,  walking,  cry- 
ing, eating,  mating,  is  purely  vital;  while  walking 
with  a  certain  step,  singing  a  song,  preferring  at 
table  one's  national  dishes  and  partaking  of  them 

6 


THE  SCOPE  AND  TASK  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

in  a  well-bred  way,  courting  a  woman  after  the  man- 
ner of  the  time,  are  social." 

If  the  social  is  not  the  vital,  neither  is  it  the  in- 
dividual psychic.  So  we  might  add  as  supplement 
to  Tarde:  "When  one  fears  the  dark,  delights  in 
color,  craves  a  mate,  or  draws  an  inference  from  his 
own  observations,  that  is  merely  psychic.  But 
when  one  dreads  heresy,  delights  in  'good  form,' 
craves  the  feminine  type  of  his  time,  or  embraces 
the  dogmas  of  his  people,  that  is  social." 

But  we  cannot  go  with  Tarde  when  he  says: 
"The  social  is  the  imitated."  Psychologists  recog- 
nize that  one  idea  calls  up  another  in  virtue  of  con- 
trast as  well  as  in  virtue  of  resemblance.  Likewise 
a  person's  behavior  may  be  determined  in  way  of 
opposition  as  well  as  in  way  of  imitation.  "Con- 
trary" children  are  controlled  by  telling  them  just 
the  opposite  of  what  you  wish  them  to  do.  Like- 
wise non-conformists  in  going  out  of  their  way  to 
flout  conventions  pay  involuntary  homage  to  the 
influence  of  society.  Foemen,  competitors,  and  dis- 
putants so  determine  one  another  that  it  is  impossible 
to  gauge  them  without  invoking  the  external  factor. 
"Social,"  then,  are  all  phenomena  which  we  cannot 
explain  without  bringing  in  the  action  of  one  human 
being  on  another.  If  at  first  blush  this  seems  to  call 
for  a  "science  of  things  human,"  let  us  remember 
that  we  are  not  bound  to  attend  to  phenomena  that 
do  not  manifest  themselves  on  a  considerable  scale. 
The  individual  case — David  and  Jonathan,  Lear  and 
his  daughters — challenges  only  the  artist.     Let  a 

7 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

case  recur  often  enough  to  present  a  type  and  there 
is  room  for  the  generaHzer. 

In  the  rag-carpet  times  of  our  grandmothers  each 
housewife  got  her  warp  from  the  store,  but  provided 
the  woof  from  her  own  rag-bag.  Now  the  woof  of 
each  human  being's  life  is  supplied  by  that  which  is 
individual  to  him — his  heredity,  temperament,  situa- 
tion, history.  But  the  warp  is  supplied  from  with- 
out, sometimes  from  a  very  slender  stock,  allowing 
little  range  of  selection.  Whence  and  how  common- 
place people  get  the  knowledge,  convictions,  tastes, 
and  standards  that  constitute  the  warp  of  their  lives 
is  explained  by  social  psychology — and  although 
some  regard  it  as  the  top  story  of  psychology,  I 
prefer  to  make  it  the  lower  story  of  sociology. 

The  running  of  boundary  lines  acceptable  to  the 
biologist  and  the  psychologist  is  not  the  worst  of  our 
task.  There  remains  the  harder  problem  of  coming 
to  terms  with  the  special  social  sciences,  such  as 
economics,  jurisprudence,  and  politics. 

Sociology,  as  I  have  described  it,  does  not  meekly 
sidle  in  among  the  established  sciences  dealing  with 
the  various  aspects  of  social  life.  It  does  not  con- 
tent itself  with  clearing  and  tilling  some  neglected 
tract.  It  has,  indeed,  reclaimed  certain  stretches  of 
wilderness  and  made  them  its  own.  With  this 
modest  role,  however,  it  is  not  satisfied.  It  aspires 
to  nothing  less  than  the  suzerainty  of  the  special 
social  sciences.  It  expects  them  to  surrender  their 
autonomy  and  become  dependencies,  nay  even  prov- 

8 


THE  SCOPE  AND  TASK  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

inces,  of  sociology.  The  claim  is  bold,  and  we  may 
be  sure  the  workers  in  long-cultivated  fields  will 
resist  such  pretensions,  unless  there  are  the  best  of 
reasons  for  founding  a  single  comprehensive  science 
of  social  phenomena. 

Such  a  reason  is  certainly  not  furnished  by  "the 
unity  of  the  social  aggregate."  As  we  have  seen, 
there  is  no  well-defined  social  aggregate.  The  na- 
tion is  the  nearest  to  it,  but  the  actual  distinctness 
and  oneness  of  the  nation  is  a  historical  incident  due 
to  past  wars.  Every  step  in  the  peaceful  assimi- 
lation of  peoples  brings  us  nearer  the  time  when  the 
globe  will  be  enmeshed  in  an  unending  plexus  of 
interpenetrating  free  associations,  no  one  of  which 
will  arrogate  to  itself  the  title  of  "society." 

Nor  is  a  good  reason  furnished  by  that  constant 
reciprocal  action  between  socii  which  is  expressed 
in  the  "social  organism"  concept.  As  division  of 
labor,  exchange,  and  competition,  these  interactions 
have  long  formed  part  of  the  stock-in-trade  of 
economics.  As  mental  communication,  they  are  the 
staple  of  linguistics.  As  party  activity  and  civic 
cooperation,  they  have  been  set  forth  by  the  science 
of  politics.  Wherefore,  then,  a  new  science  to 
teach  that  "no  man  liveth  unto  himself?" 

Some  would  justify  a  unitary  treatment  of  society 
by  making  one  species  of  social  phenomena  the  cause 
of  all  the  rest.  However  varied  the  aspects  of  social 
life,  if  there  is  but  one  causal  center,  one  fountain 
head  of  change,  there  can  be  but  one  science.  To 
Loria's  eye  all  the  non-economic  factors  running 

9 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

through  the  social  system — such  as  law,  politics,  and 
morality — derive  from  underlying  economic  condi- 
tions. The  desire  for  wealth  is  the  sole  architect  of 
ethical  standards,  legal  norms,  and  the  constitution 
of  the  state.  As  Loria  takes  the  economic  regime, 
so  Vico  and  Fustel  de  Coulanges  and  Kidd  take  re- 
ligion, Condorcet,  Buckle,  and  Du  Bois  Reymond 
take  science,  as  the  primum  mobile  of  the  social 
world.  All  this,  however,  reads  into  human  affairs 
a  unity  and  simplicity  that  is  not  really  there. 
There  is  more  than  one  desire  operating  in  society. 
The  endeavor  to  reduce  all  kinds  of  social  facts  to 
a  single  cause  is  vain. 

An  adequate  ground  for  creating  an  inclusive 
science  lies  in  none  of  the  foregoing  considerations. 
Let  us,  then,  attack  the  problem  from  another  side. 
Let  us  consider  under  what  conditions  the  estab- 
lished social  sciences  might  vindicate  the  sacredness 
of  their  ancient  boundaries  and  successfully  with- 
stand any  scheme  of  merger  into  a  more  general 
science. 

Suppose  that  the  desires  that  constitute  the  springs 
of  human  action  and  the  causes  of  social  phenomena 
resolved  into  certain  basic  cravings,  each^stinct 
from  the  others  in  its  object,  and  each  stimulating 
men  to  a  particular  mode  of  activity  in  order  to 
satisfy  it.  Suppose,  furthermore,  these  specific 
desires  never  crossed  or  modified  one  another  and 
were  intractable  to  the  unifying  control  of  any 
world-view  or  ideal  of  life.  Suppose,  finally,  that 
each  craving,  operating  on  a  large  scale,  generated 

10 


THE  SCOPE  AND  TASK  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

in  society  certain  appropriate  dogmas,  creeds,  activi- 
ties, and  institutions,  which  remained  separate  from 
and  unmixed  with  the  collective  manifestations  of 
other  cravings.  Religious  phenomena  would  then 
be  unalloyed  by  ethical  or  political  considerations. 
The  forms  of  the  family  would  be  unaffected  by 
industrial  changes.  The  fine  arts  would  run  their 
course  heedless  of  revolutions  in  the  sphere  of  ideas. 

Under  these  conditions  there  might  exist  for  each 
principal  kind  of  craving  at  work  in  social  life  an 
independent  body  of  knowledge.  The  craving  for 
wealth  would  mark  out  a  sphere  for  economics. 
The  sex  and  parental  cravings  would  do  the  same 
for  genetics  or  the  science  of  the  family.  The  lust 
for  power  would  define  politics.  The  sentiment  of 
the  wronged  would  fix  the  scope  of  jurisprudence. 
The  craving  for  Ciommunion  with  the  Unseen  would 
bound  the  field  of  the  science  of  religion.  The 
attraction  of  like  for  like  would  make  possible  the 
science  of  association.  There  would  be  as  many 
social  sciences  as  there  were  facets  to  human  nature, 
and  if  any  bond  drew  them  together  into  a  largef* 
synthesis,  it  would  be  supplied  by  psychology  and 
not  by  a  general  sociology. 

The  mere  statement  of  the  requirements  to  be 
fulfilled  in  order  to  assure  the  sovereignty  and  equal- 
ity of  the  special  social  sciences  puts  a  sufficient 
quietus  on  such  claims.  Each  is  not  the  exclusive 
field  of  action  of  certain  impulses.  So  far  as  specific 
cravings  exist,  they  react  upon  and  modify  one 
another,  they  lie  under  the  empery  of  the  accepted 

II 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

world-view  or  ideal  of  life,  they  are  trimmed  and 
adjusted  to  fit  into  a  plan  of  life.  Moreover,  turn- 
ing from  the  sphere  of  mind  to  that  of  society,  we 
do  not  find  one  species  of  activities  or  institutions 
answering  to  the  religious  man,  another  to  the 
political  man,  a  third  to  the  ethical  man,  or  a  fourth 
to  the  sociable  man.  The  method  of  abstracting 
from  human  nature  all  its  propensities  save  one,  in 
order  to  get  that  one  propensity  operating,  as  it  were, 
in  vacuo,  received  its  death-stroke  when  economists 
gave  up  speculating  about  *'the  economic  man." 

Although  there  are  several  facets  to  human  nature, 
although  each  aspect  of  social  life  has  in  some  sort 
a  psychic  basis  of  its  own,  still,  the  deeper  we  pene- 
trate into  the  causes  of  human  affairs,  the  more 
impressed  are  we  with  the  cross-relations  between 
social  phenomena  of  different  orders,  and  the  more 
evident  is  the  consensus  that  unites  facts  the  most 
diverse  in  character.  "Every  culture  form,"  says 
Grosse,^  "is,  as  it  were,  an  organism,  in  which  all 
parts  and  functions  stand  in  the  closest  interde- 
pendence." Much  of  our  progress  in  the  knowledge 
of  society  consists  in  establishing  correlations,  trac- 
ing subterranean  actions  and  reactions  between 
remote  institutions.  Reputations  have  been  made 
by  exposing  the  hidden  link  that  unites  slavery  with 
cotton  culture,  caste  with  conquest,  manhood  suf- 
frage with   free  land,  the  patriarchal  family  with 

■  t. 

*"Die  Formen  der  Familie  und  die  Formen  der  Wirth- 
schaft,"  p.  7. 

12 


THE  SCOPE  AND  TASK  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

pastoralism,  the  multiplication  of  wants  with  the 
rise  of  a  leisure  class. 

^  In  the  earlier  social  philosophy  the  prominent  fea- 
tures of  social  life  are  referred  directly  to  human 
nature.  War  is  ascribed  to  the  bad  passions  of 
men,  and  not  to  the  pressure  of  population.  Theo- 
logical beliefs  are  supposed  to  flow  from  religious  in- 
tuitions. Worship  is  held  to  be  the  expression  of 
universal  instincts.  The  ethical  code  is  looked  upon 
as  a  deliverance  of  individual  consciences.  The 
actual  form  of  the  family  is  derived  from  the 
"natures"  of  men  and  women  and  children.  The 
law  is  thought  to  objectify  the  moral  consciousness 
of  mankind.  In  this  vein  Aristotle  traces  slavery  to 
the  natures  of  the  born  inferior  and  the  born  supe- 
rior. Filmer  derives  the  power  of  kings  from  the 
"natural"  obedience  of  children  to  parents.  Mon- 
tesquieu makes  despotism  rest  on  fear,  monarchy  < 
on  honor,  and  a  republic  on  virtue.  Adam  Smith 
traces  the  division  of  labor  to  a  propensity  "to 
truck,  barter,  or  exchange  one  thing  for  another." 
Carlyle  sees  in  dignities  of  rank  a  product  of  the 
hero-worship  in  human  nature. 

This  manner  of  interpretation  is  now  seen  to  be 
superficial.  Often  an  institution  does  not  exist  in  its 
own  right  but  as  an  incident  or  by-product.  The 
more  we  delve  beneath  the  surface,  the  more  we  dis- 
cover sympathetic  connections  between  things. 
The  fuller  our  knowledge,  the  more  impressed  we 
are  with  the  relativity  of  each  class  of  social  phe- 
nomena to  other  classes.     Society  no  longer  falls 

13 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

apart  into  neat  segments  like  a  peeled  orange. 
State,  law,  religion,  art,  morals,  industry,  instead  of 
presenting  so  many  parallel  streams  of  development, 
are  studied  rather  as  different  aspects  of  one  social 
evolution. 

We  see  that  standards  of  conduct  are  in  intimate 
relation  with  theological  beliefs,  that  laws  are 
correlated  with  moral  standards,  that  both  reflect 
economic  necessities,  and  that  these,  in  turn,  depend 
on  the  forwardness  of  the  arts  or  on  the  proportion 
between  population  and  land.  The  state  is  ex- 
plained, not  out  of  human  nature,  but  in  connection 
with  ethnic  heterogeneity,  militant  activities,  or 
economic  inequalities.  The  development  of  religion 
is  shown  to  follow  step  by  step  the  development  of 
relations  within  the  social  group.  Thus  a  disturb- 
ance in  one  department  of  social  life  awakens  echoes 
and  reverberations  clear  around  the  circle.  It  is  a 
perception  of  this  truth  which  leads  Ingram*  to 
declare:  "No  rational  theory  of  the  economic 
organs  and  functions  of  society  can  be  constructed 
if  they  are  considered  as  isolated  from  the  rest." 
"A  separate  economic  science"  he  deems  "an  im- 
possibility as  representing  only  one  portion  of  a 
complex  organism  all  whose  parts  and  their  actions 
are  in  a  constant  relation  of  correspondence  and 
reciprocal  modification." 

The  antiquated  systems  of  social  theory  which 
take  metaphysical  assumptions  or  supposed  proper- 
ties of  human  nature  as  the  point  of  departure  for 

*  "History  of  Political  Economy,"  p.  199, 
14 


THE.  SCOPE  AND  TASK  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

their  reasoning  are  sterile.  The  disciples  of  the 
abstract  political  economy,  the  unhistorical  juris- 
prudence, the  a  priori  ethics,  and  the  speculative 
politics  make  no  headway  because  they  shut  their 
eyes  to  the  interdependence  of  dissimilar  social  facts. 
In  each  field  of  social  inquiry  the  laurels  are  going 
to  those  investigators  who  look  over  into  other 
fields,  who  correlate  the  form  of  government  with 
humble  geographical,  military,  or  industrial  facts, 
religious  progress  with  family  or  tribal  develop- 
ment, moral  crises  with  changes  in  consumption  or 
in  the  constitution  of  classes. 

The  certainty  that  profounder  research  will  reveal 
still  closer  relations  of  this  sort  is  the  ground  of  our 
faith  in  the  future  of  sociology.  We  know  we  can 
afford  to  bide  our  time.  We  do  not  need  to  plead 
or  preach  in  order  to  win.  In  the  long  run  the  na- 
ture of  things  will  prevail.  Vested  interests  in 
learning  will  yield  to  the  logic  of  facts.  So  far  as 
social  life  is  one,  there  will  be  one  master  science  of 
sociallife.  If  not  to-day,  then  to-morrow,  if  not  by 
this  generation,  then  by  the  next,  the  necessity  for 
sociology  will  be  fully  recognized.  There  is  a  va-.\ 
cant  chair  among  the  great  sciences,  and  sooner  ort^ 
later  that  chair  will  be  filled. 

Assuming  the  vassal  and  dependent  character  of 
the  social  sciences  has  been  made  clear  beyond  the 
shadow  of  a  doubt,  we  next  take  up  the  question: 
"Are  these  sciences  to  become  mere  branches  of  so- 
ciology, or  will  they  retain  a  measure  of  their  old 
separateness  and  individuality?" 

IS 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

I  It  may  be  they  will  stand  to  sociology  as  the 
special  to  the  general.  This  ^  how  the  theory  of 
agriculture,  transportation,  or  commerce  stands  to 
economics.  Administration  and  comparative  legis- 
lation are  special  in  resj>ect  to  political  science,  just 
as  histology  and  embryology  are  special  with  refer- 
..  ence  to  biology.  Now,  a  social  science  will  be 
merely  special  sociology  in  two  cases:  (i)  if  the 
I  phenomena  it  treats  of  flow  from  the  same  desires 
that  cause  other  kinds  of  social  phenomena,  or  (2) 
if  they  are  produced  by«  individual  desires,  special 
in  character,  but  so  socialized  and  fused  that  they 
amount  to  a  social  need  and  the  satisfying  of  them 
amounts  to  the  discharge  of  a  social  function.  Let 
us  now  apply  these  tests  to  the  principal  social 
sciences. 

Take  the  science  of  religion.  Will  it  shrink  to 
a  mere  chapter  in  sociology?  By  no  means.  It 
might  if  faith  were  nothing  but  an  incident  of  spec- 
ulative thought  or  of  social  discipline.  If  pious  be- 
liefs were  an  outgrowth  of  collective  thought  and 
never  of  personal  experience,  if  in  worship  men 
sought  benefits  rather  than  obeyed  impulses,  we 
might  treat  religious  phenomena  as  a  mere  division 
of  social  phenomena.  But  religion  has  a  private  as 
well  as  a  public  aspect.  It  is  not  all  a  matter  of  so- 
cial psychology ;  still  less  is  it  a  matter  of  social  in- 
stitution. Nor  is  it  a  side  issue  to  something  larger, 
a  by-product  of  sex-feeling  or  moral  feeling  or  eco- 
nomic calculation.  It  has  a  tap-root,  and  this  tap- 
root is  that  strange  invasion  from  the  sub-conscious 

16 


THE  SCOPE  AND  TASK  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

self  which  is  variously  known  as  ecstasy,  rhapsody, 
divine  afflatus  or  gnosis.  Experience  of  this  kind 
generates  religious  convictions.  The  yearning  to 
taste  or  renew  this  "communion"  leads  men  to  pious 
exercises.  Let  these  individual  phenomena  occur 
on  a  large  scale  and  you  have  cults,  creeds,  and 
churches  standing  out  in  bold  relief  on  the  face  of 
society.  The  actual  sweep  of  a  religion  is,  of 
course,  due  in  large  measure  to  self-seeking,  pro- 
pitiatory motives,  and  to  its  maintenance  as  a  prop 
of  social  order.  Thereby  it  falls  under  the  surveil- 
lance of  the  group-interest  and  comes  to  sympathize 
with  the  changes  in  other  departments  of  social  life. 
Religion  is,  in  fact,  a  growth  springing  from  the  soil 
of  human  nature,  but  taking  its  shape  and  hue  from 
the  social  medium.  The  science  of  religion  is  for 
this  reason  under  a  dual  dependence,  owing  allegi- 
ance to  psychology  no  less  than  to  sociology.  It  is 
this  situation  Mill  has  in  mind  when  he  says^ :  "The 
different  kinds  of  social  facts  are  in  the  main  depend- 
ent, immediately  and  in  the  first  resort,  upon  differ- 
ent kinds  of  causes,  and  therefore  not  only  may  with 
advantage,  but  must  be,  studied  apart." 

The  relation  of  ethics  to  sociology  bristles  with 
difficulties.  In  the  first  place,  ethics  aspires  not  only 
to  explain  phenomena,  but  to  appraise  them.  It  dif- 
ferentiates ends.  It  values  actions.  It  assumes  the 
role  of  a  normative  science,  whereas  sociology  does 
not  venture  beyond  the  causes  and  laws  of  the  phe- 
nomena it  considers.     But  there  is  an  ethics  that 

*"A  System  of  Logic,"  p.  565. 
2  17 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

aims  to  understand,  not  to  appraise,  and  it  is  this 
ethics  alone  which  is  on  a  footing  with  sociology. 
\  Again,  ethics  may  undertake  to  explain  actions, 

or  it  may  liniit  itself  to  those  actions  which  affect 
other  persons,  i.  e.,  conduct.  Usually  it  has  ignored 
what  are  termed  "indifferent  actions"  and  addressed 
itself  to  classifying  and  explaining  the  feelings, 
choices,  and  judgments  of  men  in  respect  to  modes 
of  conduct.  It  is,  of  course,  only  in  this  narrower 
sense  that  ethics  can  be  accounted  a  social  science. 

Now,  is  this  "science  of  conduct"  a  semi-sover- 
eign member  of  a  federal  empire  or  only  a  province 
in  a  unitary  state?     The  answer  depends  upon  the 
relative  importance  in  ethical  phenomena  of  special 
and  general  factors, 
t^     As  regards  choices,  men  are  brought  to  take  a  so- 
cially safe  line  of  conduct  by  all  manner  of  sanc- 
tions, suggestions,  standards,  ideals,  and  valuations 
imposed  from  without.     With  all  this  social  control 
.  there  cooperate,  however,  two  specific  impulses — 
sympathy  and  the  sense  of  justice.     These  are  other- 
regarding,  it  is  true,  but  they  do  not  seem  to  have 
their  origin  in  the  influence  of  man  on  man.     The 
\  one  has  its  roots  in  instinct,  the  other  is  an  off-shoot 
from  early  mental  growth.^ 

Still  more  marked  is  the  private  factor  in  the 
judgments  that  men  in  their  capacity  of  disinterested 
spectators  pass  upon  the  conduct  of  other  men.  If 
these  judgments  were  always  grounded  on  social 
utility,  if  they  invariably  encouraged  safe  actions, 

^  See  the  author's  "Social  Control,"  chs.  II,  III  and  IV. 
i8 


THE  SCOPE  AND  TASK  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

and  discouraged  unsafe  actions,  they  would  amount 
to  a  self-preserving  instinct  in  society.  They  would 
be  functional,  just  as  courts  and  reform  schools  are 
functional.  Collective  judgments  as  to  good  and 
bad  would  be,  in  effect,  institutions — strong,  upright 
pillars  of  society. 

But,  in  point  of  fact,  people  do  not  praise  or  blame 
altogether  as  socii.  The  moral  judgments,  impera- 
tives, and  ideals  they  emit,  although  in  the  main  pur- 
poseful, do  betray  considerable  admixture  of  crude 
sentiment.  The  general  reprobation  of  vice,  idle- 
ness, waste,  sacrilege,  or  impiety  does  not  voice  con- 
cern for  the  corporate  welfare.  It  merely  voices 
common,  private  sentiments.  Of  some  of  our  judg- 
ments— abhorrence  of  unnatural  practices,  for  in- 
stance— the  roots  run  far  down  into  our  ancient, .  /'" 
pre-social  instincts.^ 

At  a  moment  when  ethicians,  weary  of  juggling 
conscience,  innate  ideas  of  right  and  wrong,  the  Ten 
Commandments,  and  what-not  out  of  the  individual 
mind,  are  coming  to  perceive  the  social  bases  of 
morality,  one  is  loth  to  lay  a  straw  in  their  way. 
Yet  it  is  well  to  recognize  that,  after  all  is  said,  ethics 
is  more  than  a  mere  wing  of  sociology.  Some  of 
the  piers  that  support  it  rest  in  bj^glpgy,  some  in  in-  X 
dividual  psychology,  some  in  social  psychology,  and 
some  in  social  morphology. 

Politics,  like  ethics,  has  the  double  task  of  explain-- '^ 
ing  what  is  and  determining  what  ought  to  be.     In 
so  far  as  it  aims  to  arrive  at  principles  for  the  guid- 

» "Social  Control,"  ch.  VIII. 

19 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ance  of  political  action,  it  is  more  like  an  art  than  a 
science,  but  it  may  be  termed  a  normative  science. 
Still,  it  is  possible  to  regard  matters  of  government 
as  phenomena,  and  to  study  them  with  a  view  to  as- 
certaining the  causes  and  laws  of  their  occurrence. 
Political  science  of  this  aetiological  sort  will  stand  in 
some  close  relation  to  sociology.  Whether  it  will 
stand  to  it  as  part  to  whole  or  as  special  to  general, 
depends,  as  in  the  preceding  cases,  on  the  specificness 
of  the  forces  and  facts  it  deals  with. 

Now,  government  is  not  the  sphere  of  operation 
of  characteristic  forces,  but  the  meeting-place  of 
nearly  all  the  kinds  of  forces  present  in  social  life. 
"The  functions  of  the  state,"  it  has  well  been  re- 
marked, **are  coextensive  with  human  interests." 
This  is  true  only  because  the  more  important  human 
desires — greed,  vanity,  sympathy  with  the  weak, 
love  of  truth,  passion  for  homogeneity,  craving  for 
justice — make  themselves  felt  in  moulding  the  policy 
of  government.  One  motive  leads  to  public  relief 
of  the  poor,  another  motive  inspires  state  endow- 
ment of  research,  a  third  impels  to  the  artificial  as- 
similation of  the  foreign  elements  in  the  population, 
a  fourth  dictates  the  seizure  of  tropical  markets.  In 
fact,  almost  every  species  of  interest  sooner  or  later 
records  itself  in  government. 

There  are,  to  be  sure,  two  special  traits  of  human 
nature  which  come  to  light  in  government.  The 
one  is  the  lust  of  dominating ;  the  other,  its  counter- 
part, is  the  impatience  of  restraint.  In  other  words, 
power  is  sought  for  its  own  sake,  and  liberty  is 


THE  SCOPE  AND  TASK  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

prized  for  its  own  sake.  Were  these  two  forces 
alone  implicated  in  government,  political  science 
would  have  a  basis  of  its  own  apart  from  sociology. 
But  who  will  seriously  contend  that  the  "will  to 
power"  is  now  the  chief  roative  tending  to  enlarge 
the  authority  of  the  state,  or  that  hatred  of  restraint 
is  the  chief  counteracting  force?  In  the  early 
stages  of  social  development  a  state  is  often  the  cre- 
ation of  a  single  energetic  will.  Says  Mr.  Bryce 
of  the  East:^  "A  military  adventurer  or  the  chief 
of  a  petty  tribe  suddenly  rises  to  greatness,  becomes 
the  head  of  an  army  which  attacks  all  its  neighbors, 
and  pursues  a  career  of  unbroken  conquest  till  he 
has  founded  a  mighty  empire."  With  greater  so- 
cial advance,  however,  there  is  sure  to  arise  a  com- 
pact fabric  of  government  and  law,  which  offers 
successful  resistance  to  the  vaulting  ambition  of  the 
individual.  As  regards  the  antagonistic  force,  Mr. 
Bryce  observes  i^  "The  abstract  love  of  liberty  has 
been  a  comparatively  feeble  passion."  "Rebellions 
and  revolutions  are  primarily  made,  not  for  the  sake 
of  freedom,  but  in  order  to  get  rid  of  some  evil 
which  touches  men  on  a  more  tender  place  than  their 
pride." 

In  fact,  the  political  is  simply  imbedded  in  the  so- 
cial. Political  grouping  is  not  distinct  from,  but 
tends  to  be  a  resultant  of,  the  linguistic,  cultural, 
religious,  and  economic  groupings  of  population. 
Political  organization  is  only  a  part  of  social  organ- 

^  "Studies  in  History  and  Jurisprudence,"  vol.  II,  p.  i6. 
^Ibid.,  pp.  24,  25. 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ization.  The  substance  of  the  state  is  prestige, 
time-hallowed  relations,  habits  of  cooperation  and 
obedience.  The  sphere  of  government  becomes  an 
expression  of  collective  need.  The  will  that  sets  in 
motion  the  public  organs  is  not  the  mere  sum  of  in- 
dividual wills,  but  the  highly  elaborated  will  of  sec- 
tions, classes,  or  the  nation  itself.  Government  is 
becoming  functional  to  society,  and  if  political  sci- 
ence remains  distinct,  it  will  be  because  the  breadth 
of  the  field  calls  for  the  specialist,  and  not  because 
there  are  well-defined  natural  boundaries  marking  it 
off  from  sociology. 

Comparative  jurisprudence  deals  with  phenomena 
which  exhibit  the  working  of  two  special  principles 
of  human  nature — the  thirst  for  vengeance  that  tor- 
ments the  sufferer  of  a  wrong,  and  the  desire  for 
fair  play  that  moves  the  beholders  of  a  wrong. 
These  formidable  impulses  were  early  led  into  the 
safe  channels  of  legal  redress,  in  order  that  society 
might  be  spared  the  evils  of  feud  and  retaliatory 
violence.  In  time,  however,  the  law-originating 
impulses  became  socialized  and  rationalized.  In- 
wrought with  other  motives,  they  come  to  express 
the  will  of  the  So.daLPex§QnaUty.^  The  just  settle- 
ment of  disputes,  from  a  private  need,  becomes  a 
public  function.  When  we  consider  the  transform- 
ation of  law  by  jurisconsults  and  judges,  the  en- 
largement of  it  by  the  action  of  the  legislator,  and 
the  renovation  of  it  in  the /name  of  the  principle  of 

*  See  the  chapter  on  "Law"  in  the  author's  "Social  Con- 
trol" 

22 


THE  SCOPE  AND  TASK  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

social  utility,  it  is  plain  that  jurisprudence  cannot 
hope  to  be  more  than  a  feudatory  state  in  the  realm 
of  sociology. 

There  is  no  reason  why  what  is  known  as  "the 
sociology  of  the  family"  together  with  the  "popula- 
tion" section  of  political  economy  should  not  have 
been  set  apart  as  genetics.  The  family  is  certainly 
distinguished  from  other  social  structures  by  owing 
its  existence  to  the  highly  special  instincts  of  sex-  jj 
attraction  and  philoprogenitiveness.  These  _iar 
^tincts,  moreover,  being  gratified  individually,  do 
notcafl  into  being  joint  activities  or  distinct  profes- 
sions such  as  we  find  in  the  religious  or  economic 
spheres.  An  institution  it  may  be,  but  the  family  is 
not,  properly  speaking,  a  social  organ. 

It  is  unlikely,  however,  that  we  shall  see  split  oflF 
a  science  treating  of  the  social  phenomena  that  cen- 
ter in  the  reproductive  function.  One  reason  is 
that  the  sex  and  family  relations,  since  they  are  al- 
ways standardized  in  law  and  morals,  are,  at  every 
moment,  in  the  most  intimate  sympathy  with  the 
reigning  culture.  Furthermore,  all  our  researches 
go  to  magnify  the  importance  of  the  non-instinctive 
factors  in  fixing  the  duration,  size,  and  internal 
structure  of  the  family.  Not  long  ago  Maine  and 
Hearn  and  Fustel  de  Coulanges  brought  to  light  the 
religious. -factor.  Now  it  is  the  ecgoomic  factor 
that  is  exalted.  As  motive  to  marriage  the  sex  at- 
traction has  been  reinforced,  it  appears,  by  man's 
desire  for  a  servant  and  woman's  desire  for  a  pro- 
tector.    Children  have  been  reared,  not  from  par- 

23 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ental  love  alone,  but  because  a  daughter  can  be  sold 
for  cash,  while  the  son  can  be  kept  as  a  helper,  a  pro- 
tector, and  an  avenger.  Grosse  therefore  hits  the 
bull's  eye  when  he  says:^  "If  we  wish  to  grasp  a 
particular  social  structure — say  a  form  of  family  or- 
ganization— in  its  essence  and  significance,  we  must 
study  it  in  its  natural  connection  with  the  civiliza- 
tion in  which  it  grows,  lives,  and  works." 

As  regards  noetics,  by  which  term  we  would  des- 
ignate the  science  that  deals  with  the  phenomena 
that  arise  from  efforts  to  satisfy  the  craving  for 
truth,  and  (esthetics,  or  the  science  that  treats  of  the 
phenomena  that  arise  in  connection  with  endeavors 
to  satisfy  the  craving  for  the  beautiful,  there  is  no 
doubt  that,  owing  to  their  close  and  immediate  de- 
pendence upon  the  psychology  of  the  individual 
mind,  they  will  retain  a  good  deal  of  independence 
with  respect  to  sociology.  We  are,  in  fact,  comings 
to  recognize  in  inventions  and  discoveries  the  first 
causes  of  many  of  the  great  transformations  in  so- 
ciety. Even  in  these  branches  of  inquiry,  however, 
new  social  factors  are  coming  forward.  In  tracing 
the  evolution  of  philosophies,  sciences,  and  the  fine 
arts,  more  causes  and  influences  are  being  recog- 
nized. Attempts  to  review  the  course  of  intellectual 
progress  without  taking  due  note  of  changes  in  the 
state  of  society  have  shown  opinions  and  movements 
succeeding  one  another  without  meaning  or  logic. 
Those  who  would  comprehend  intellectual  or  aes- 
thetic advance  must  consent  to  take  into  considera- 

^  Op.  cit.,  p.  7. 

24 


THE  SCOPE  AND  TASK  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

tion  such  factors  as  the  geographical  environment, 
the  prevailing  occupations,  the  plane  of  comfort, 
town  life,  the  influence  of  a  leisure  class,  the  attitude 
of  the  priesthood,  the  organization  of  education,  the 
diffusion  of  learning,  and  the  degree  of  honor  at- 
taching to  intellectual  and  artistic  pursuits. 
<~  The  piers  on  which  rests  economics,  the  greatest 
of  the  social  sciences  and  (save  linguistics)  the  most 
independent,  are  certain  properties  of  the  external 
world  and  certain  properties  of  hujuan  nature.  The  / 
latter  are  the  desire  for  wealth,  the  aversion  to  labor, 
and  the  reluctance  to  postpone  present  gratifications.^ 
The  first  of  these  calls  into  being  productive  ener- 
gy, the  second  and  third  limit  this  energy,  the  one 
in  respect  to  labor,  the  other  in  respect  to  capital. 
All  three  co-operating  distribute  productive  energy 
among  places,  seasons,  occupations,  and  enterprises 
in  a  way  that  is  termed  "economic." 

It  would  be  a  mistake  to  regard  these  three  sub- 
jective foundations  of  economics  as  simple  traits  of 
human  nature.  The  aversion  to  labor  has  in  it,  in- 
deed, an  element  of  organic  repugnance  to  sustained  / 
effort.  But  it  also  contains  a  social  factor,  namely 
a  conventional  dis-esteem  of  labor  derived  from  the 
stigma  that  a  leisure  class  attaches  to  the  functions 
of  the  industrial  class. 

t   As  to  the  desire  for  wealth,  it  is  exceedingly  com- 
plex.    It  has  a  threefold  tap-root  in  hunger,  or  the      . 
craving  for  food,  zvant,  or  the  craving  for  clothing 
and  shelter,  and  the  love  of  bodily  ease  which  ex- 
presses itself  in  a  demand  for  comfort.     Its  side 

25 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

roots,  moreover,  connect  it  with  nearly  all  the  spe- 
cific desires  we  have  considered  in  the  foregoing 
pages.  The  passion  for  sex  spurs  a  suitor  to  amass 
the  riches  that  can  win  him  his  bride.  The  lust  of 
power  is  a  demand  for  the  wealth  that  procures 
power.  The  craving  for  beauty  is  a  demand  for 
costly  artistic  products.  The  religious  impulse  gives 
off  a  demand  for  the  material  accessories  of  worship. 
Even  the  most  spiritual  wants  demand  leisure  for 
their  satisfaction,  and  wealth  is  a  means  to  leisure. 
The  acquisitive  lust  is  further  whetted  by  the  honor 
that  attaches  to  profuse  consumption  and  conspicu- 
ous waste. 

Thus,  sooner  or  later,  all  the  cravings  of  human  na- 
ture put  in  a  requisition  for  wealth,  and  the  conflu- 
ence of  these  tributaries  with  the  main  stream  of  de- 
sire rolls  down  a  veritable  Nile-flood  of  greed  which 
beslimes,  yet  stimulates,  nearly  every  profession  and 
function  in  society.  This  generic  virtue  of  wealth 
it  is,  which  makes  it  stand  for  desirability  in  the  ab- 
stract, and  gives  rise  to  the  plausible  myth  that  the 
lust  of  acquisition  is  the  sole  motive  of  human  en- 
deavor, the  direct  or  remote  cause  of  all  social  phe-* 
nomena,  the  single  force  that  holds  together  the, 
social  frame  even  as  gravitation  holds  together  the- 
(^olar  system.  The  economic  sociologists,  although 
mistaken,  are  not  without  excuse. 

The  social  economy  that  is  sequel  to  the  universal 
pursuit  of  gain  is  beautifully  law-abiding,  and  pre- 
sents a  well-defined  field  for  the  science  of  economics. 

j     But  when  economics  comes  to  treat  of  the  consump- 

^  26 


THE  SCOPE  AND  TASK  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

tion  of  wealth,  it  becomes  vague  and  quickly  loses 
itself  in  sociology.  The  reason  is  very  simple.  It 
is  after  goods  have  been  produced  and  distributed 
that  the  dissimilar  interests  that  united  to  spur  men 
to  acquisitive  effort  reappear  in  all  their  separate- 
ness.  The  desire  for  wealth  splits  up  into  its  com- 
ponents. Most  wealth-seekers  follow  a  line  of 
action  which  is  properly  termed  "economic."  But 
as  wealth-consumers  they  behave  differently.  One 
man  spends  his  surplus  for  sensual  gratifications, 
another  uses  it  to  found  a  family,  a  third  turns  it 
into  objects  of  beauty,  a  fourth  makes  it  a  votive  of- 
fering, a  fifth  employs  it  to  win  power,  a  sixth  makes 
it  procure  him  social  consideration.  Its  actual  des- 
tination depends  upon  the  age,  the  race,  the  stage  of 
culture ;  in  a  word,  upon  the  state  of  society.  The 
salient  features  of  the  society — social  composition, 
matrimonial  customs,  class  relations,  political  habits 
— must  all  be  taken  into  account  in  order  to  under- 
stand the  consumption  of  wealth. 

The  relation  of  the  trunk  of  a  tree  to  its  branches 
is,  I  believe,  a  fit  symbol  of  the  relation  of  Sociology 
to  the  special  social  sciences.  But  the  tree  in  ques- 
tion is  a  banyan  tree.  Each  of  the  great  branches 
from  the  main  trunk  throws  down  shoots  which  take 
root  and  give  it  independent  support  in  human  na- 
ture. In  the  case  of  a  branch  like  politics  these  spe- 
cial stems  are  slight  and  decaying.  In  the  case  of  a 
branch  like  econonlics  the  direct  support  they  yield 
is  more  important  than  the  connection  with  the  main 

27 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

trunk.  In  every  case  an  independent  rootage  in  un- 
\  socialized  desire  is  the  fact  that  entitles  a  branch  of 
social  knowledge  to  be  termed  a  science,  and  dif- 
ferentiates it  from  those  branches  which,  having  no 
source  of  life  other  than  the  main  trunk,  must  be 
termed  departments  of  special  sociology. 


28 


II 

THE  SOCIOLOGICAL  FRONTIER  OF  ECONOMICS* 

The  student  of  economics  cannot  remain  unaware 
that  his  is  a  realm  bordered  by  other  realms.  He 
pushes  his  inquiries  as  to  the  role  of  nature  in  pro- 
duction, and  lands  in  economic  botany  or  zoology. 
He  goes  deeply  into  the  subject  of  labor,  and  finds 
himself  studying  physiology.  He  undertakes  to 
reach  the  basis  of  rent,  and,  ere  he  knows  it,  is 
poring  over  the  bulletins  of  the  experiment  stations. 
The  principle  of  division  of  labor  takes  him  into 
technology.  Transportation,  drives  him  to  the  law 
of  carriers.  The  study  of  property  involves  him  in 
jurisprudence.  International  trade  or  monopoly 
conducts  him  to  political  science.  Consumption, 
with  its  study  of  wants  and  choices,  is  a  short  cut  to 
ethics.  Now,  I  wish  to  raise  the  question,  \ls  there 
not  a  field  of  investigation  lying  up  against  eco- 
nomics which,  although  social,  is  yet  not  jurispru- 
dence or  political  science  or  ethics?" 

The  theory  of  population  betj:2^:s_such  a  field.  At 
first  Malthus  wrote  of  man  and  his  increase  much  as 
Darwin  might  have  written  of  rabbits.  But  later 
he  made  more  of  the  "preventive  check" ;  and  out  of 
this  grain  of  mustard-seed  has  grown  a  flourishing 

^From  the  Quarterly  Journal  of  Economics^  July,  1899. 
29 


^ 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

tree.  The  recognition  of  the  fact  that  custom,  by 
regulating  the  age  of  marriage,  the  plane  on  which 
housekeeping  shall  begin,  the  comfort  in  which  chil- 
dren shall  be  reared,  and,  even,  in  a  general  way,  the 
size  of  the  family,  has  a  good  deal  to  do  with  the  in- 
crease of  population, — all  this  has  sprung  a  host  of 
questions  which  economists  wisely  forbear  to  answer. 
Whence  come  these  standards  ?  Who  makes  them  ? 
Do  they  change?  Do  they  respond  to  economic 
changes  alone  or  to  manifold  social  changes?  Is 
there  wisdom  and  adaptation  hidden  away  in  them  ? 
If  so,  how  did  it  get  there  ?  What  makes  a  man  con- 
form to  them  ?  What  happens,  if  he  does  not  ? 
•s^  We  are  beginning  to  see  that  a  check  much  more 
^effective  than  a  definite  standard  of  comfort  is  uni- 
versal ambition  and  the  pressure  of  new  wants. 
Malthus  made  much  of  "moral  restraint."  But  how 
about  egoistic  restraints  ?  How,  if  people  are  keen- 
witted enough  to  realize  that,  the  more  babies,  the 
fewer  beefsteaks,  l^ycles,  and  outings?  Will  not 
the  size  of  the  family  be  affected  by  the  rise  of  a 
furiously  competitive  democracy  where  strict  class 
lines  have  been  swept  away,  where  old  contentment 
is  gone,  and  everybody  is  straining  every  nerve  to 
get  a  little  higher  in  the  social  scale?  Or  suppose 
y^  the  value  of  woman  rises.  Will  not  the  keener  ap- 
preciation of  her  burdens  in  child-bearing  and  child- 
rearing  be  a  check  to  numbers  ?  Again,  how  is  the 
size  of  the  family  affected  by  the  ambition  of  women 
to  be  something  else  than  mothers  and  household 
drudges,  by  the  higher  education  of  women,  by  the 

30 


FRONTIER  OF  ECONOMICS 

opening  of  the  professions  to  them,  by  the  adoption 
of  rational  dress  ? 

Besides  the  fact  that  society,  as  it  becomes  more 
democratic,  whets  the  eagerness  of  parents  for  pleas- 
ures and  luxuries  that  are  incompatible  with  large 
broods,  there  is  a  further  complication  of  the  prob- 
lem of  increase  by  diffeient  ways  of  starting  children 
in  life.  Taine  describes  France  under  the  old 
regime  as  a  series  of  staircases  separated  by  land- 
ings. One  could  elbow  his  way  upward  on  his  own 
flight  of  steps ;  but  he  did  not  expect  to  invade  the 
staircase  above.  Besant  describes  the  English  pro- 
fessions as  pleasant  parks,  guarded  each  by  a  turn- 
stile where  a  thousand  pounds  is  demanded  of  the 
lad  who  would  enter.  Now,  in  a  stratified  society, 
where  in  general  a  man  is  content  to  bring  up  his 
children  to  his  own  trade  and  manner  of  life,  the 
restraint  on  numbers  will  not  be  so  strong  as  in  a 
society  stirred  to  its  depths  with  hope  and  ambition, 
where  to  talent  equipped  with  knowledge  all  doors 
are  open,  where  the  higher  education  is  accessible, 
and  where  the  competition  of  parents  to  get  their 
sons  on  in  the  world  has  made  schooling  needful  in 
the  battle  for  life  to  an  almost  preposterous  degree. 

The  question  of  population  is  not  the  only  one 
that  ramifies  into  a  region  not  economic.  The  writer 
once  undertook  a  study  that  should  bring  to  light 
the  forces  that  fix  the  time  of  labor.  There  is,  of 
course,  the  physical  limit,  at  which  the  arm  refuses 
to  lift  the  pickaxe  and  the  eye  to  follow  the  stitches. 
There  is  the  psychical  limit,  at  which  the  pain  of 

31 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

further  toil  becomes  intolerable.  There  is  the  tech- 
nical consideration  that  prolongs  the  labor-day  of 
those  engaged  in  the  hotel,  railroad,  street-car,  res- 
taurant, theatre  and  cab  services.  There  is  the  ob- 
jective economic  consideration,  which  stops  labor 
when  further  strain  will  impair  to-morrow's  work. 
There  is  the  subjective  economic  limit,  at  which  the 
disutility  of  another  quarter-hour  of  labor  exceeds 
the  utility  of  that  quarter-hour's  product.  And  this 
inverse  relation  of  hours  and  reward  of  labor  is 
found  to  prevail  through  the  whole  social  gamut, 
from  bank  presidents  and  theatrical  managers  to 
cobblers  and  charwomen.  Then  there  is  the  fixing 
of  the  length  of  the  labor-day  by  this  consideration 
working  through  a  body  of  men,  as  in  a  factory. 
The  day's  limit  is  the  consensus  of  the  trade,  as  in 
brick-laying,  or  of  some  other  trade,  as  in  hod- 
carrying. 

So  far,  so  good.  But,*  when  the  writer  began  to 
inquire  what  fixed  the  days  of  labor  in  the  year  as 
well  as  the  hours  of  labor  in  the  day,  new  and  law- 
less forces  were  encountered ;  and  the  essay  on  "The 
Time  of  Labor"  was  never  written.  Why  are  there 
fifty-two  holidays  a  year  for  almost  every  kind  of 
labor?  Why  should  this  quota  of  rest  time  be  re- 
served for  the  destitute  as  well  as  for  the  comfort- 
able, in  bad  times  as  well  as  in  good  times,  in  poor 
societies  as  well  as  in  rich  communities,  in  cold  cli- 
mates as  well  as  in  hot  climates?  How  is  it  that 
the  six-day  period  of  labor  introduced  by  the  duo- 
decimal  Babylonians   among  the   state   slaves   em- 

32 


FRONTIER  OF  ECONOMICS 

ployed  on  public  works,  in  order  to  prevent  their 
being  driven  to  death  by  their  taskmasters,  has  come 
to  be  universal  in  the  Western  world?  Is  it  tradi- 
tion, belief,  or  expediency  that  upholds  the  Sabbath, 
that  stupendous  institution  which  disposes  of  one- 
seventh  of  the  time  of  man  with  an  authority  cer- 
tainly more  than  economic?  If  the  last,  is  it  valued 
for  its  uses  in  this  world  or  for  its  bearing  on  the 
next  ?  Is  it  primarily  for  the  good  of  the  man  who 
is  told  to  rest  or  for  the  benefit  of  the  society  that 
bids  him?  Is  it  a  hygienic  measure  to  guard  the 
vigor  of  the  race,  a  socialistic  measure  to  compel 
the  capitalist  to  furnish  the  laborer  seven  days'  keep 
for  six  days'  work,  or  a  police  measure  intended  to 
fortify  a  religion  that  is  considered  indispensable  to 
the  existence  of  social  order  ? 

Again,  take  the  twin  pillars  of  exchange — secur- 
ity and  probity.  Security  is  of  course  explained  by 
what  political  science  can  tell  us  of  law  and  of  the 
state.  But  whence  this  probity  ?  Is  it  an  individual 
quality,  like  color  of  eyes?  Or  does  it  vary  with 
social  conditions  ?  At  the  present  moment  Japanese 
firms  are  importing  Chinese  to  fill  the  fiduciary  posts. 
Is  this  because  commercial  trickiness  is  a  Japanese 
race-character?  Then  why  was  this  trait  so  rare 
under  the  old  regime?  Here  is  a  quality  of  great 
economic  importance,  which  varies  in  mysterious 
sympathy  with  social  changes.  What  is  the  correl- 
ated fact  in  the  new  social  era  of  Japan  ?  Is  it  bad 
Western  example,  or  an  appetite  for  wealth  whetted 
by  new  wants,  or  a  flood-tide  of  new  ideas,  weaken- 
3  33 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ing  the  grip  of  the  old  standards  and  ideals  that  held 
fast  the  egoistic  individual  in  a  kind  of  moral  mat- 
rix? 

The  honesty  of  Chinese  bankers  and  merchants  is 
well  known.  Yet  the  rottenness  of  government  is 
proverbial.  We  read:  "Mines  do  not  pay  the  pro- 
prietors, because  the  laborers  pilfer  the  production ; 
cotton  factories,  because  the  mill-hands  carry  off  the 
raw  material  stowed  away  in  their  clothes.  The 
most  important  Chinese  companies  are  machines  for 
the  wholesale  misappropriation  of  funds."  The  ex- 
planation of  the  paradox  seems  to  be  that  for  the  tra- 
ditional and  familiar  business  relations  the  Chinese 
have  slowly  elaborated,  as  a  sine  qua  non  of  com- 
merce, a  professional  morality  which  rules  very  au- 
thoritatively those  trained  under  it.  But  in  novel 
relations  and  responsibilities  not  provided  for  in  the 
professional  ethics  the  native  slipperiness  of  the 
Celestial  comes  to  light.  But  this,  in  turn,  opens  up 
attractive  lines  of  inquiry.  How  do  these  profes- 
sional standards  and  ideals  grow  up?  What  gives 
them  their  binding  power  ?  ^  Are  they  imposed  for 
the  good  of  society  at  large  or  for  the  good  of  the 
trade  or  profession?  Can  the  larger  social  group 
impose  its  standards  in  the  same  way?  Should 
abuses  be  cured  by  invoking  law  or  by  stiffening  pro- 
fessional ethics  ? 

Capital  takes  wings,  and,  surveying  the  planet 
from  China  to  Peru,  alights  wherever  there  is  a  rail- 
road to  build  or  a  mine  to  develop.  But  it  is  other- 
wise with  labor.     If  the  economist  is  allowed  only  a 

34 


FRONTIER  OF  ECONOMICS 

single  sentence  on  the  mobility  of  labor,  he  will  prob- 
ably say  that,  like  borax  or  bicycles,  it  seeks  the  best 
market,  but  that  its  cost  of  transportation  is  high. 
If,  however,  he  is  granted  a  chapter,  he  will  find 
himself  compelled  to  follow  up  this  problem  to  its 
head-waters  in  another  region.  Why  does  the  Eng- 
lishman migrate  only  to  English  colonies,  the 
Frenchman  to  French  colonies?  Why  are  there 
streams  of  migration  that  can  be  directed  or  turned 
aside?  There  are  not  streams  of  wheat  or  lumber 
that  can  be  so  easily  diverted.  Why  is  it  that  the 
tide  flows  easily  enough  after  the  first  few  boat-loads 
of  Italians  have  gone  to  Brazil  or  the  first  Nor- 
wegian settlements  have  been  planted  in  Minnesota  ? 
We  are  told  American  labor  >and  enterprise  will  in- 
vade the  Philippines,  if  we  keep  them.  Why  do 
they  not  invade  them  now  ?  The  economic  situation 
will  not  be  changed  by  annexation.  All  this  sug- 
gests that  there  are  non-economic  forces  that  influ- 
ence the  groupings,  cooperations,  apd  dealings  of 
peoples. 

At  this  moment  Germany  is  losing  her  Scandi- 
navian trade  through  the  hostility  aroused  by  the 
expulsions  of  Danes  from  Schleswig-Holstein.  An 
anti-Semitic  journal  in  Paris  has  just  been  ruined 
in  paying  damages  to  tradesmen  whose  business  it 
had  injured  by  publishing  them  as  Jews.  French 
unfriendliness  is  resented  by  fewer  American  orders 
for  articles  de  Paris.  Here  is  uneconomic  behavior 
in  response  to  powerful  sympathies  and  antipathies 
that  we  had  assumed  to  be  dying  out.    There  is  cer- 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

tainly  room  for  a  science  that  shall  inquire  how  far 
\  social  groupings  correspond  to  economic  interest, 
and  how  far  they  ignore  it ;  that  shall  assign  to  re- 
ligion, race,  language,  nationality,  and  propinquity 
their  due  share  in  the  formation  and  division  of 
groups;  and  that  shall  lay  down  the  conditions  fa- 
vorable to  the  blending  of  such  groups,  comparing  in 
assimilative  value  the  Russian  policy  of  persecution 
with  the  American  policy  of  freedom  and  equality. 

The  tame  treatment  of  the  consumption  of  wealth 
by  most  economists  has  been  due  to  a  dim  percep- 
tion of  many  factors  which  are  not  economic.  The 
fagade  type  of  expenditure,  that  lavishes  on  show 
and  luxuries  and  scrimps  on  necessaries,  goes  with 
a  development  that  removes  the  old  landmarks  and 
stimulates  social  ambitions.  Fashion  extends  her 
baleful  sway  with  the  disappearance  of  fixed  classes 
of  peasants,  burghers,  gentlefolk.  The  fact  that  all 
genuine,  plain,  homespun  articles  disappear  before 
the  universal  demand  for  cheap,  tawdry  imitations 
of  the  furniture  and  clothes  of  the  wealthy  is  due  to 
\  the  democratic  constitution  of  society.  Our  buggies 
and  parlor  organs,  our  plated  silver  and  veneered 
furniture,  are  as  eloquent  of  equality  as  our  corridor 
cars.  The  absence  of  distinct  ways  of  living  for  the 
well-to-do  and  the  ill-to-do  produces  a  smooth-slop- 
ing outward  uniformity  in  costume  and  furniture 
and  ornament,  which,  whenever  possible,  sacrifices 
reality  to  appearances. 

The  demand  for  food  and  fuel  is  original;  but 
most  of  the  wants  that  drive  the  industrial  machine 

36 


FRONTIER  OF  ECONOMICS 

are  inspired  by  example.  If  these  imitations  were 
haphazard,  there  would  be  nothing  more  to  say. 
But  are  they  not  law-abiding  ?  The  desire  for  para- 
sols, billiard-tables,  and  bath-rooms  descends  in  a 
series  of  cascades  from  the  social  superior  to  the  so- 
cial inferior;  and  we  can  distinguish  a  society  in 
which  each  class  imitates  the  class  just  above  it  from 
one  in  which  the  decay  of  reverence  permits  the 
humblest  grades  to  ape,  as  well  as  they  can,  the  top- 
most grade,  and  so  produces  the  sweeping  uniformi- 
ties of  democracy.  Nor  will  other  inquiries  prove 
fruitless.  How  are  wants  transplanted  from  age  to 
age  and  from  folk  to  folk  ?  What  is  the  role  of  an 
aristocracy  in  the  propagation  of  wants?  What  is 
the  relation  of  city  to  country,  of  the  smaller  cities 
to  the  large  ones?  If  the  eight-hour  day  comes, 
what  are  the  influences  that  will/determme  how  the 
workingman  shall  dispose  of  hi^  margin  of  leisure? 
What  is  the  influence  of  educa^on  in  the  spread  of 
wants  ? 

As  the  time  and  energy  of  labor  are  directly  re- 
lated to  the  number  and  intensity  of  wants,  we  might 
expect  each  man's  economic  effort  to  depend  imme- 
diately on  his  utility  scale.  But  this  is  not  the  case. 
Societies  themselves  get  a  characteristic  adjustment 
between  work  and  wants,  and  this  C3nsensus  over- 
rides the  individual  calculus.  It  is  ^natural  that  a 
younger  son,  like  Seattle  or  Portland,  should  begin 
the  day  earlier  and  work  harder  than  New  Haven  or 
Springfield.  But  what,  save  the  might  of  usage  and 
the  contagion  of  example,  can  explain  jvhy  the  West- 

37 


y 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ern  business  man,  even  when  he  has  made  a  fortune, 
goes  on  working  till  he  drops  ?  Moreover,  the  same 
society  changes  its  calculus  from  age  to  age.  The 
England  of  Arthur  Young  was  slower-pulsed  than 
the  England  of  to-day.  And  in  America,  since  1825, 
we  appear  to  have  been  fevered  with  a  gigantic,  con- 
tinent-conquering ambition  which  has  made  repose 
almost  a  lost  art. 

The  economist,  if  challenged  to  differentiate  eco- 
nomics from  social  science,  might  point  out  that  his 
science  deals  with  simple  and  well-known  individual 
quantities  and  phenomena,  manifesting  themselves  in 
the  social  theatre  on  a  vast  scale.  Volumes  of  de- 
mand, or  products,  or  sales,  or  imports,  or  deposits, 
or  investments,  are  mere  aggregates  of  individual 
acts.  If  one  should  object  that  the  socio-economic 
fact — the  market,  bank,  clearing-house,  or  factory — 
differs  from  the  individual  fact  underlying  it,  he 
might  retort  that  an  accident  is  an  individual  fact, 
but  if  it  happens  often  you  get  an  emergency  hos- 
pital ;  that  a  fire  is  an  isolated  occurrence,  but  if  there 
are  many  fires  you  get  an  engine  company. 

So  far  the  economist  is  right.  But  how  about 
cases  where  the  social  fact  is  not  the  mere  footing  up 
of  the  column  of  private  facts?  To-day's  demand 
for  a  stock  may  be  composed  of  a  multitude  of  unre- 
lated individual  preferences ;  but  to-morrow  there  is 
a  flurry,  and  nine-tenths  of  the  desires  to  get  or  dis- 
pose of  that  stock  may  be  due  to  the  apparent  desire 
of  other  people  to  get  or  dispose  of  it.  A  run  on  a 
bank  has  quite  a  different  composition  from  the  total 

38 


FRONTIER  OF  ECONOMICS 

withdrawals  on  an  ordinary  day.  A  Tacoma  boom 
has  a  much  more  complex  structure  than  the  real 
estate  market  in  Cohoes.  The  analysis  of  a  Klon- 
dike rush  reveals  more  factors  and  problems  than  the 
dissection  of  the  westward  drift  of  our  population. 
Comparing  the  value  of  an  African  mining  stock 
with  the  value  of  cattle  or  shirts,  it  will  be  apparent 
that  the  individual  estimates  underlying  the  former 
have  been  much  more  compounded  and  re-com- 
pounded than  those  on  which  the  latter  is  based. 

In  other  cases  we  have  to  do  with  persistent  zy\xf 
rents  of  imitation  rather  than  transient  waves.  To 
the  authority  of  tradition  must  we  ascribe  the  ex- 
ceptional esteem  in  which  landed  property  continues 
to  be  held  in  England,  the  Jewish  predilection  for 
trade  and  finance,  the  British  willingness  to  take 
speculative  risks,  the  Scotch  regard  for  the  "mony 
mickles"  that  "make  a  muckle,"  or  tbj6  American 
farmer's  obstinate  adherence  to  the  isolated  home- 
stead. 

Now,  the  laws  of  cross-imitation  and  of  up-ana- 
down  imitation  are  revealed  only  to  him  who  studies 
the  most  various  social  phenomena.  Tulip  manias 
and  Black  Fridays  and  Denver  booms  and  South 
Sea  bubbles  and  Kaffir  circuses  must  be  referred  to 
a  series  of  phenomena  ranging  all  the  way  from 
mobs  and  revivals  to  political  landslides.  What  is 
the  nucleus  of  such  a  movement?  What  are  the 
stages  of  its  growth?  How  can  it  be  stopped? 
What  social  conditions  favor  it?     How  does  prog- 

39 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ress  affecc  it  ?    For  light  on  these  questions  the  econ- 

"Dmist  must  cross  the  frontier. 

I  have  cited  enough  illustrations  to  show  that  the 
economist  is  sometimes  led  to  push  his  inquiries 
over  into  an  adjoining  tract  of  knowledge,  that  cov- 
ers human  action  and  yet  is  not  jurisprudence  or 
ethics  or  political  science.  This  adjacent  science 
that  busies  itself  with  imitation  and  custom  and  tra- 
dition and  conventionality ;  that  seeks  the  origin, 
meaning,  and  authority  of  the  standards  and,  ideals 
shaping  individual  action ;  that  traces  the  connection 
between  the  constitution  of  a  society  and  the  'Oppor- 
tunities and  ambitions  of  its  members ;  that  inquires 
into  the  causes  and  the  consequences  of  th^  spon- 
taneous  sentimental   groupings   of  men;   and   that 

\  deals  with  the  development  of  the  social  mind  and 

jthe  means  and  extent  of  its  ascendency  over  the 
VJ desires  and  valuations  of  individual  minds, — this' 

Iscience  is  Sociology. 

The  empire  of  the  Czar  is  bounded  on  its  west- 
em  frontier  by  the  clearly  defined  and  well-explored 
territories  of  highly  organized  governments  like 
Austria  and  Germany.  On  its  eastern  side,  until 
recently  at  least,  it  melted  vaguely  into  the  little- 
known  lands  disputed  among  the  khanates  of  Cen- 
tral Asia.  Economics  likewise  is  bounded  for  the 
most  part  by  regions  that  have  been  well  defined  and 
thoroughly  explored  by  highly  organized  sciences. 
But  on  one  side  it  is  embarrassed  by  an  uncertain 
and  disputed  frontier  with  a  little-known  territory, 
subject  to  the  conflicting  and  unreasonable  claims  of 
rival  chieftains.     Sociology  is  its  Central  Asia. 

40 


I 


III 

SOCIAL  LAWS* 

The  quick  mastery  of  things  that  science  assures 
us  is  due  to  the  fact  that  science  presents  all  comers 
with  truth  packed  away  in  neat  portable  formulae. 
The  strength_of  anox  in  a  t^a=cup.  "the  virtue  of  a 
beef-steak  in  a  capsule,  the  healing  power  of  a  plant 
in  a  pellet — such  is  the  ideal  of  the  investigator  as  he 
labors  to  establish  laws.  No  branch  of  knowledge 
is  felt  to  possess  in  high  degree  the  scientific  quality 
unless  it  has  found  regularities  and  ironstant  rela* 
tions  among  the  phenomena  it  contemplates.  In 
dealing  with  the  more  complex  phenomena,  to  be" 
sure,  some  of  the  precision  and  absoluteness  of 
physical  and  chemical  laws  must  be  renounced. 
Out  of  the  tangled  skein  we  shall  rarely  get  anything 
better  than  an  empirical  law.  Few,  indeed,  are  the 
formulae  that  can  be  so  phrased  as  to  hold  for  all 
occasions  and  circumstances.  But  this  has  not  dis- 
couraged the  biologist  or  the  sociologist  from  trying 
to  distill  into  vest-pocket  phials  the  tincture  and  es- 
sence of  innumerable  cases.  It  is  our  present  pur- 
pose to  sample  and  test  the  shelf  of  phials  purporting 
to  contain  the  quintessences  of  social  facts. 

^  Vide  The  American  Journal  of  Sociology,  July,  1903. 
41 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Sociology  differs  from  its  older  sister  sciences  in 
that  it  was  built  by  certain  great  synthesists — Comte, 
Spencer,  Von  Lilienfeld,  Schaffle,  De  Roberty,  and 
Fouillee — who  were  more  renowned  for  their  wide 
acquaintance  with  many  provinces  of  knowledge  than 
for  their  close  familiarity  with  any  particular  divis- 
ion of  social  facts.  In  their  spacious  philosophic 
surveys,  all  of  them  came  upon  the  same  great  cantle 
of  unknown  territory,  and  in  their  endeavor  to  stake 
off  and  explore  this  expanse  they  created  sociology. 
It  is  true  this  region  was  not  quite  a  wilderness,  hav- 
ing been  effectively  occupied  in  spots  by  the  econo- 
mists. But  to  their  achievements  the  philosophers 
paid  about  as  much  heed  as  the  early  explorers  of 
America  paid  to  the  constructions  of  the  mound- 
builders. 

M  The  philosophers,  no  doubt,  hastened  the  day  of 
sociology,  but  they  burdened  the  infant  science  with 

V  two  faulty  methods.  One  is  the  fondness'  for  the 
objective  statement  of  the  behavior  of  associated 
men  in  preference  to  the  subjective  interpretation. 

^  The  other  is  the  excessive  reliance  upon  superficial 
analogies  between  social  facts  and  other  facts.  Ow- 
ing to  these  errors  the  earlier  formulations  of  social 
law  are  not  based  upon  the  accumulation  and  com- 
parison of  social  data,  but  are  built  out  laterally  from 
the  more  advanced  neighboring  sciences.  Sociology 
is  at  first  a  balcony — or  shall  I  say  a  "lean-to"? — 
projecting  from  physics  or  biology  or  psychology. 
The  first  notable  example  is  Spencer's  demonstra- 
43        "^ 


SOCIAL  LAWS 

tion  that  the  various  propositions  which  make  up  his 
grand  law  of  evolution  apply  to  society.^ 

Thsit^otion  follows  the  line  of  least  resistance  is  ^. 
as  true,  he  says,  for  societies  as  for  molecules.  J  He^ 
instances  the  congregating  of  men  at  places  of 
abundant  food  supply,  the  lines  of  migration,  the 
growth  of  industrial  centers,  the  location  of  trade 
routes  and  many  other  economic  facts.  Now,  thisj 
proposition  can  hold  only  in  so  far  as  men  econo- 
mize. If  there  is  a  play  side  as  well  as  a  work  side 
to  human  life,  if  men  are  squanderers  of  energy  as 
well  as  economizers  of  energy,  they  will  not  follow 
lines  of  least  resistance.  The  development  of  games 
and  social  festivity,  the  self-expression  of  artistic 
and  religious  activity,  as  well  as  the  devotion  to 
sport,  adventure,  and  exploration,  show  that  there 
is  such  a  thing  as  a  surplus  of  human  energy.  _  ((•*' 

But  even  economic  men  do  not  follow  "the  line  of  *  ^», 
least  resistance"  in  the  same  way  as  molecules.  Com- 
pare the  path  of  a  flood  with  that  of  an  army.  Water 
will  meander  a  score  of  leagues  to  find  an  outlet  but 
a  furlong  away.  An  army  clambers  over  an  inter- 
vening ridge  to  reach  its  objective.  Each  moment 
of  its  course  the  river  follows  the  line  easiest  at  that 
moment.  Man  knows  his  goal  and,  having  fore- 
sight, takes  the  line  that  on  the  whole  is  easiest.  This 
is  why  man  leads  water  to  its  destination  by  much 
straighter  channels  than  nature  does.  j 

The  thesis  tha.^ocieties,  like  all  other  aggregates, 
pass  from  less  coherence  to  more  coherence!  (Isiw  of 

*  See  "First  Principles." 

43 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

integration)  is  tenable  enough,  but  the  explanation 
of  the  process  is  unsatisfactory.  Spencer  apparently 
lays  it  to  the  interdependence  resulting  from  the  di- 
vision of  labor.  But  later  thinkers  account  other- 
wise for  the  undoubted  integration  of  men  into 
larger  and  larger  social  wholes.  Gumplowicz^  de- 
rives it  from  the  law  that^very  group  strives  to  util- 
ise all  zveaker  groups  zvifhin  its  rcacfiA  From  this 
result  war,  conquest,  absorption,  and  finally  the  fus- 
ing of  conquerors  and  conquered  into  one  people 
ready  to  repeat  the  process  with  some  other  people 
similarly  formed.  On  the  other  hand,  Tarde — the 
St.  John  among  sociologists  —  finds  the  cause  of 
integration  not  so  much  in  the  constrained  associa- 
tion of  victors  and  vanquished  as  in  that  peaceful 
intercourse  between  contiguous  groups  which  pro- 
motes reciprocal  imitation,  creates  a  common  plane 
of  culture,  and  fits  them  to  enter  easily  into  a  larger 
human  synthesis. 

Spencer's  law  that,  like  the  Cosmos,\sociefy  passes 
from  the  homogeneous  to  the  heterogeneous](\a.w  of 
diflFerentiation)  is  open  to  the  gravest  objections. 
The  illustrations  are  all  taken  from  the  active  and 
especially  the  vocational  side  of  life.  Now,  it  is 
true  that  in  a  plastic  society  men  specialize  more 
and  more  with  reference  to  the  performance  of  un- 
like tasks ;  but  while  they  become  more  unlike  as 
producers,  they  become  more  like  as  consumers.  The 
longer  men  dwell  together,  the  more  readily  they 
respond  to  powerful  currents  of  imitation  which 
assimilate  them  in  their  tastes,  desires,  and  ideals. 


SOCIAL  LAWS 

The  sway  of  custom  or  fashion  proclaims  the  insta- 
bility of  the  heterogeneous.  The  triumph  of  a  na- 
tional speech,  religion,  patriotism,  music,  costume, 
or  sport  over  old  provincial  and  local  diversities  is 
unquestionably  a  more  pregnant  fact  in  social  his- 
tory than  is  the  specialization  of  employments. 

If  Spencer's  illustrations  of  the  march  of  hetero- 
geneity are  taken  too  exclusively  from  the  industrial 
sphere,  he  falls  into  just  the  opposite  error  when  he 
strives  to  prove  th3it\societies  show  increasing  deii- 
niteness  of  arrangementl  He  draws  all  his  facts 
from  State,  Church,  and  Law,  from  those  spheres 
which  touch  social  order  and  therefore  exhibit  the 
greatest  sharpness  of  outline  and  rigidity  of  form. 
Moreover,  he  cites  from  composite  societies,  where 
there  are  castes  corresponding  to  races  anciently 
stratified,  and  where  the  iron  distinctions  of  function 
and  occupation  are  a  heritage  from  successive  con- 
quests. 

Notice  the  .fact  that  Spencer,  after  seeking  to 
prove  the  preceding  thesis  from  a  plastic  society 
would  prove  his  present  thesis  from  an  ossified  so- 
ciety, a  tacit  admission  that  the  laws  in  question  do 
not  apply  to  all  social  groups.  It  is  true  that  a 
community  long  undisturbed  is  likely  to  exhibit  crys- 
tallization and  rigidity.  But  it  is  no  less  true  that  a 
community  agitated  by  inventions,  migration,  con- 
quest, or  culture-contacts  exhibits  fluidity  and  vica- 
riousness  of  function.  Here  there  is  great  insta- 
bility of  political  and  social  position,  great  facility  of 
individual  ascent  and  descent,  a  rapid  subversion  of 

45 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

old  fortunes  by  new  wealth,  of  old  classes  by  new 
groupings,  of  old  conventions  by  new  standards  and 
values. 

Against  the  proposition  that  fm  society,  as  else- 
where) a  single  cause  produces  a  number  of  unlike 
effect's}>(\3LVf  of  the  multiplication  of  effectsl,  there  is 
nothing  to  be  said. 

The  statement  that  incident  forces  tend  to  collect 
the  like  and  to  separate  the  unlike  (law  of  segrega- 
tion), is  doubtless  as  true  of  people  as  it  is  of  parti- 
cles. Nevertheless,  by  implying  that  human  segre- 
gation is  the  result  of  "incident"  forces  it  veils  the 
real  reason  why  like  joins  with  like.  That  the  rec- 
ognition of  resemblance  inspires  a  fellow-feeling 
which  unites  men  into  unlike  groups  is  a  psychical 
fact  and  nothing  is  gained  by  assimilating  it  with 
purely  physical  processes  like  the  sorting  of  particles 
by  wind,  or  water,  or  electrical  attraction. 

The  thesis  thzvLsocial  evolution  tends  toward  a 
more  perfect  equilwriuin^(h.w  of  equilibration)  does 
not  seem  to  be  justified  by  Spencer's  evidence.  It  is 
true  that  electricity  and  steam  are  facilitating  the 
adjustment  of  economic  supply  to  demand,  but  it  is 
likewise  true  that  the  increasing  use  of  fixed  capital 
entails  only  too  frequently  that  rupture  between  sup- 
ply and  demand  which  we  call  a  commercial  crisis. 
As  for  what  he  styles  the  better  equilibration  between 
the  demand  for  government  and  the  supply  of  it,  i.  e., 
the  lessening  oscillation  between  political  revolution 
and  reaction,  one  questions  if  it  is  at  all  bound  up 
with  the  social  process.     It  appears  rather  to  be  a 

46 


I 


SOCIAL  LAWS 

natural  consequence  of  the  growth  of  capitalism  on 
the  one  hand  and  the  diffusion  of  knowledge  on  the 
other.  To  say  nothing  of  disturbances  arising  from 
general  causes  such  as  the  unequal  fecundity  of 
classes,  races,  or  nations,  it  is  evident  that,  until 
every  Peter  the  Hermit,  Gutenberg,  Watt,  or  Napo- 
leon is  strangled  in  the  cradle,  society  will  never  long 
remain  in  balance. 

The  case  admirably  exemplifies  the  danger  of  for- 
mulating social  laws  on  hints  from  other  sciences. 
The  law  may  be  true,  yet  if  there  is  no  patient  dig- 
ging into  social  facts  to  get  at  the  root  of  the  matter, 
i.  e,,  to  uncover  the  specific  cause  of  the  observed 
tendency,  one  is  likely  to  state  as  valid,  for  all  times 
and  all  societies,  something  that  holds  only  since  the 
decline  of  the  tribal  system,  the  advent  of  gun- 
powder, or  the  prevalence  of  machine  industry. 

Although  during  the  interval  between  First 
Principles  and  his  Principles  of  Sociology  Spencer 
grew  cautious  in  the  use  of  analogy,  and  came  to 
prefer  the  laws  of  life  to  the  laws  of  matter  as 
the  key  to  social  processes,  his  treatment  of  society 
as  a  mass  rather  than  a  consensus,  as  an  aggre- 
gate of  bodies  rather  than  an  accord  of  minds,  had 
meanwhile  given  much  encouragement  to  social 
physicists.  The  most  extreme  of  these  is  Carey, 
whose  maxims,  "All  science  is  one  and  indivisible" 
and  "The  laws  of  physical  science  are  equally  those 
of  social  science"  would  throttle  sociology  in  its  in- 
fancy. To  the  combinations  of  men  he  applies  the 
chemical  law  of  multiple  proportions,  and  the  phys- 

47 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ical  law  of  the  composition  of  forces.  From  the  law 
of  gravitation  he  deduces  that  the  attraction  of  cities 
is  directly  as  the  mass  and  inversely  as  the  distance! 
Writing  early  in  the  seventies  at  a  time  when  the 
philosophical  world  was  profoundly  stirred  by  new 
and  splendid  generalizations  in  the  field  of  life,  Von 
Lilienfeld  seeks  to  bring  society  under  biological 
rather  than  physical  laws.  He  insists^  that  society  is 
a  **real  organism,"  and  declares,  Wt  is  an  unscientific, 
dualistic  dogma  which  asserts  that  human  society 
develops  according  to  other  laws  than  natural  organ- 
isms??   V.  •- 

(/  Following  Haeckel's  thesis  that  among  the  exist- 
ing species  of  organisms  can  be  found  types  corre- 
sponding to  the  successive  forms  by  which  in  the  past 
the  higher  species  developed  out  of  a  simple  cell, 
Lilienfeld  lays  down  the  law^  that  within  any  social 
group  can  he  found  coexisting  all  the  types  of  cul- 
ture traversed  by  man  in  his  ascent  from  savagery?^ 
As  an  illustration  of  this  grandiose  "Law  of  Paral- 
^^_ldism"  he  adduces  the  fact  that  older  and  inferior 
lA  j^>^i*^gencies  of  transportation — pack  mule,  stage  coach, 
^  ■  *  sailing  vessel — persist  alongside  of  later  and  higher 
agencies.  Alas  for  hollow  phrases,  the  explanation 
of  the  fact  lies  in  quit.e  another  quarter !  In  every 
society  there  are  transportation  routes  of  every  de- 
gree of  importance.  On  routes  of  little  traffic  the 
earlier  and  technically  inferior  means  of  carriage, 

*  "Gedanken  tiber  die  Socialwissenschaft  der  Zukunft,"  vol. 
II,  p.  109. 

*Ibid.,  pp.  121,  147. 

48 


SOCIAL  LAWS 

the  pack  train  or  the  stage  coach,  is  economically  su- 
perior and  is  therefore  retained.  Hence  the  di- 
versity. 

But  go  deeper  yet.  In  weaving  or  metal  working 
or  any  branch  of  manufacture  we  do  not  find  primi- 
tive appliances  surviving  as  we  do  in  transportation. 
Why  is  this  ?  Simply  because  the  agent  of  transpor- 
tation produces  a  service  and  not  a  commodity. 
Seeing  that  a  service  must  always  be  supplied  by  an 
agency  on  the  spot,  the  Eastern  four-track  railroad 
cannot  supplant  the  Arizona  mule  team  in  the  same 
way  that  the  Minneapolis  flour  mill  supplants  the 
local  grist  mill. 

From  the  law  that  the  embryo  of  a  creature  reca- 
pitulates in  its  development  the  entire  life  history  of 
the  species  Von  Lilienfeld  infers  analogically  iha.iithe 
individual  in  his  development  from  childhood  passes 
through  the  culture  epochs  traversed  by  human  so- 
ciety.^'] But  is  this  sound  ?  The  embryo  recapitulates 
the  development  history  of  its  species  from  force  of 
heredity.  As  Haeckel  puts  it,  "Phylogeny  is  the 
mechanical  cause  of  ontogeny."  Now,  the  course 
of  historical  development  in  no  wise  determines  per- 
sonal development.  The  boy  does  not  camp  out  be- 
cause his  ancesters  did  so  in  Caesar's  time.  Racial 
experiences  of  cave-dwelling,  hunting  and  barter 
cannot  get  into  the  blood.  The  correspondence,  if  it 
exists,  can  be  explained  only  by  assuming  that  the 
stages  of  social  ascent  are  determined  by  the  stages 
of  mental  evolution;  that  culture  epochs  answer  to 

^  "Gedanken  iiber  die  Socialwissenschaft  der  Zukunft,"  vol. 
II,  pp.  113,  198. 

4  49 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

the  gradations  in  the  intellectual  life  of  mankind; 
that  the  thinking  of  savages  is  child-like,  of  barba- 
rians is  boy-like,  of  civilization  is  man-like.  It  is 
vain,  however,  to  correlate  closely  the  actual  course 
of  evolution  of  a  society  with  intellectual  develop- 
ment, seeing  that  so  many  other  factors  influence  it, 
e,  g.,  the  character  of  the  geographical  environment, 
the  movement  of  population,  contact  with  and  bor- 
rowing from  other  societies,  the  presence  or  absence 
of  inventive  geniuses. 

De  Greef  is  another  of  those  who  work  out  from 
the  adjacent  built-up  sciences.  He  prefers  to  pro- 
ject a  generalization  cantilever-fashion  over  the  va- 
cant lot,  rather  than  to  delve  and  lay  deep  a  firm 
foundation  in  the  social  soil  itself. 

From  the  general  principle^  that  aggregates  are 
variable  in  proportion  to  the  heterogeneity  of  their 
parts,  he  infers  that  society  will  be  more  plastic  than 
an  organism,  seeing  that  it  is  larger  and  more  differ- 
entiated than  the  latter.  But  why  make  a  simple 
matter  so  hard  ?  A  society  can  change  more  than  an 
organism,  because  its  units  are  thinking  persons  and 
not  blind  cells.  The  clamp  of  custom,  moreover,  is 
by  no  means  so  firm  as  the  grip  of  heredity. 

It  is  a  well-known  fact  that,  whereas  Athens, 
Corinth,  Thebes  and  other  Greek  communities 
passed  through  the  same  series  of  political  forms — 
patriarchal,  monarchical,  aristocratic,  and  demo- 
cratic— their  colonies  in  Asia  Minor  and  elsewhere 
skipped  the  earlier  stages  and  began  their  existence 

*  "Intro'duction  a  la  sociologie."  Premiere  partie,  pp.  125-6. 
SO 


SOCIAL  LAWS 

with  the  political  form  of  the  mother  city.  This 
very  natural  and  sensible  proceeding  strikes  De 
Greef^  as  an  illustration  of  the  law  that  the  develop- 
ment of  the  embyro  recapitulates  the  development  of 
the  species  f 

In  like  vein  a  recent  champion  of  'parallelism" 
discovers  a  grand  "Law  of  the  Evolution  of  Colo- 
nies." "Up  to  the  point  in  the  growth  of  a  colony 
when  it  ceases  to  be  dependent  on  its  metropolis,  the 
political  and  social  evolution  recapitulates  in  a  few 
years  the  entire  evolution  which  the  mother  country 
may  have  taken  centuries  to  accomplish."* 

Well  may  the  economist  gibe  at  such  sociology! 
The  development  of  the  mother  country  has,  for- 
sooth, no  more  to  do  with  the  development  of  the 
colony  than  has  the  Dog  Star.  The  cause  of  the 
resemblance  is  the  fact  that  new  countries  begin  with 
a  sparse  population  which  gradually  becomes  dense. 
Hence  the  sequence  of  hunting,  pastoralism,  agricul- 
ture, industry.  Hence  the  minor  sequences  of  bar- 
ter, merchandise  money,  coined  money,  and  credit, 
of  pastoral  feudalism,  plantation  slavery,  and  the 
wage  system.  The  slow  growth  of  religion,  learn- 
ing, and  literature  is  due  simply  to  lack  of  numbers, 
of  intercourse,  of  leisure,  and  of  cities.  The  irregu- 
larity of  sex  relations  in  a  colony  is  not  an  echo  of 
primitive  times,  but  the  consequence  of  the  lack  of 
white  women  and  the  abundance  of  native  women. 
There  is  no  "law"  discernible  here  save  the  law  that, 

^  "Le  transformisme  social,"  pp.  458-9. 

'  Collier,  Popular  Science  Monthly,  vol.  54,  p.  807. 

SI 


y 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

for  colony  as  well  as  for  mother  country,  the  in- 
crease of  population  relatively  to  resources  is  a  prime 
cause  of  social  evolution. 
C  In  searching  for  the  law  of  social  decadence  De 
GreefS  instead  of  interrogating  the  history  of  de- 
clining peoples,  makes  wide  excursions  into  biology 
and  psychology.  He  is  struck  by  the  law  that  the 
organs  and  characters  recently  acquired  by  a  species 
are  less  stable  and  more  liable  to  disappear  than  the 
older  parts  more  deeply  rooted  in  heredity.  Some- 
thing very  similar  is  true  of  the  mind.  It  appears 
that  in  mental  disease,  senility,  asphyxia,  or  dissolur 
tion,  the  higher,  more  complex,  and  more  special 
faculties  disappear  before  the  lower,  simpler,  and 
more  automatic  processes.  As  Ribot  puts  it :  "Men- 
tal dissolution  follows  the  inverse  order  of  evolution, 
the  more  complex  voluntary  manifestations  ceasing 
before  the  simpler,  and  these  before  the  automatic 
actions.'* 

Extended  to  society  this  principle  yields  the  law 
that  those  traits  and  institutions  most  special,  com- 
plex, and  recently  acquired  are  the  iirst  to  disappear 
when  social  decadence  sets  in7\  Now,  is  there  really 
anything  at  all  in  this  law  ?  It  is  true  that  the  later- 
acquired  practices  and  institutions  are  unstable  until 
they  have  become  fixed  in  the  custom  of  the  folk. 
Nevertheless,  in  not  all  societies  is  custom  strong. 
Where  it  is  strong,  the  more  recently  adopted  institu- 
tions may  be  the  last  to  be  surrendered,  because  they 

^  Le  transformisme  social."  Deuxieme  partie,  chaps.  Ill 
and  V. 

52 


SOCIAL  LAWS 

are  most  suited  to  present  needs ;  whereas  the  more 
ancient  institutions,  being  already  partly  obsolescent, 
are  the  first  to  go  when  the  strain  comes.  Adversity 
is  a  test  of  the  old  rather  than  of  the  recent. 

Nor  does  the  law  seem  to  apply,  as  De  Greef 
supposes,  to  the  various  orders  of  social  facts.  A 
religion  begins  with  a  faith  and  later  adds  thereunto 
a  liturgy.  But  when  the  religion  decays  the  liturgy 
is  not  the  first  to  go  but  the  last.  An  art  beginning 
with  an  ideal  acquires  in  time  a  technique;  but  the 
technique,  exaggerated  into  a  mannerism,  persists 
long  after  the  ideal  has  vanished. 

The  hard-headed,  clear-sighted  Gumplowicz 
studies  his  facts  first  hand  and  has  no  faith  in  long- 
range  deductions  from  neighboring  sciences.  He 
believes,  however,  that  there  are  certain  laws  which 
hold  equally  for  the  inorganic,  vital,  psychic,  and 
social  spheres  of  phenomena.^  ^Before  proceeding 
to  establish  specific  social  laws  Gumplowicz  briefly 
indicates  ten  universal  laws,  the  recognition  of  which 
in  the  realm  of  social  phenomena  justifies  one's  faith 
in  the  possibility  of  a  social  science.  We  may  com- 
press them  into  the  following  seven : 

1.  For  every  phenomenon  there  is  an  adequate 
cause. 

2.  Phenomena  run  in  sequences. 

3.  These  sequences  are  law-abiding. 

4.  Concrete  objects  have  parts. 

15.  A  developmental  process  is  initiated  by  the  con- 
tact or  conflict_of  unlike  elements. 

*  "Outlines  of  Sociology."  Part  II,  sec.  2. 
53 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

6.  Forces  differ  only  in  strength  and  direction, 

7.  Identical  forces  produce  similar  effects.     ^ 
The  Austrian  thinker  does  not  illustrate  tnese 

laws,  and,  as  they  are  exceedingly  abstract  and  gen- 
eral, we  may  safely  accept  them.  His  fifth  law,  be  it 
noted,  is  one  of  the  most  fruitful  principles  to  be 
found  in  modern  sociology  .and  under  the  name  of 
"synergy"  has  been  greatly  developed  by  Dr.  Ward. 

We  have  tested  the  application  to  society  of  phys- 
ical, biological  and  psychological  laws  and  have  seen 
that  the  method  does  not  yield  lasting  results.  All 
this  work  will  have  to  be  torn  out  and  replaced  by 
better  masonry  if  the  walls  of  sociology  are  to  rise 
very  far.  No  one  denies  that  the  extension  into  the 
social  sphere  of  regularities  discovered  in  other  fields 
has  greatly  helped  to  bring  order  out  of  chaos.  It 
is  better  to  interpret  the  career  of  a  nation  analog- 
ically, than  to  interpret  it  providentially,  as.  did  the 
old  "philosophy  of  history."  Analogy  has  sug- 
gested what  to  look  for.  It  has  taught  us  to  notice 
similarities  and  to  throw  like  phenomena  into  the 
same  pigeon-hole.  To  its  life-lines  we  have  clung 
while  groping  in  the  unfamiliar  social  deeps.  It  is 
certain,  however,  that  no  recognized  science  borrows 
its  laws  from  other  departments  of  knowledge.  The 
lasting  possessions  of  sociology  will  be  regularities 
which,  instead  of  being  imported  from  without,  have 
been  discovered  by  patiently  comparing  social  facts 
among  themselves.    ~> 

With  Analogy  has  gone  the  vice  of  Exte^iorit)^ 
The  social  group  has  been  studied  from  the  outside 

54 


SOCIAL  LAWS 

as  if  it  were  a  nebula,  a  crystal,  or  an  ovule.  But  in 
the  study  of  nature  this  reliance  upon  sheer  obser- 
vation is  not  a  sign  of  strength  but  a  confession  of 
limits.  How  differently  we  should  conceive  the 
tasks  of  crystallography  if  we  could  question  the 
molecules  and  learn  just  why  they  comport  them- 
selves as  they  do!  How  otherwise  we  should  de- 
scribe chemical  processes  if  the  atoms  could  tell  us 
of  the  "affinities"  they  obey !  Not  all  our  observa- 
tions of  the  canals  of  Mars  are  worth  for  science  a 
five  minutes'  interview  with  the  Martian  Commis- 
sioner of  Public  Works.  Now,  by  contenting  him- 
self with  uniformities  instead  of  causes  the  sociolo- 
gist, with  his  "law  of  differentiation"  or  ''law  of 
parallelism"  lightly  renounces  at  a  stroke  the  enor- 
mous advantage  of  living  inside  of  society  and  hav- 
ing a  chance  to  learn  just  why  its  units  behave  as 
they  do. 

We  want  to  know  causes,  and  the  cause  of  a  col- 
lective phenomenon  must  be  something  that  influ- 
ences behavior.  Society  is,  indeed,  not  the  temple 
of  reason  but  neither  is  it  the  theatre  of  mechanical 
forces.  There  is  little  important  human  action 
which  is  wholly  blind  and  unconscious.  A  causative 
interpretation  of  social  facts  must  consider  the 
thoughts  and  the  feelings  of  the  units  whose  be- 
havior is  to  be  explained.  Until  they  are  ade- 
quately motived  common  beliefs  or  actions  have  not 
been  accounted  for.  Now,  after  eschewing  analogy 
sociologists  did  not  at  once  proceed,  as  they  should 
have  done,  to  seek  the  causes,  i.  e.,  the  motivation, 

55 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

of  occurrences.  They  dallied  away  precious  time 
at  a  half-way  house  we  may  call  the  Genetic  Inter- 
pretation. 

.  The  aim  of  the  genetic  sociologist  is  not  to  show 
why,  under  the  circumstances  and  taking  folks  as 
they  are,  a  given  institution  exists,  but  to  establish 
a  law  of  sequence  within  each  department  of  social 
life.  Morgan^  insists  that  there  have  been  five  suc- 
cessive types  of  family,  and  that  the  order  of  appear- 
ance has  been  everywhere  the  same.  Gumplowicz^ 
avers  that  there  is  "a  strictly  regular  development 
from  fetishism  through  anthropomorphism,  polythe- 
ism, and  monotheism,  to  the  atheism  of  free  think- 
ers." Letourneau^  declares  that  politically  "human 
societies  evolve  regularly  by  successive  stages  which 
are  anarchy,  the  communal  clan,  the  tribe,  at  first  re- 
publican, later  aristocratic,  then  monarchy,  at  first 
elective  and  later  hereditary.  Finally  certain  elite 
peoples  repudiate  monarchy  and  return  to  a  regime 
republican  but  very  unlike  that  of  the  primitive 
tribe."  De  Greef*  sets  up  as  the  law  of  aesthetic  de- 
velopment that  "architecture  always  precedes  sculp- 
ture, and  sculpture  precedes  painting." 

Now,  formulae  of  this  sort  not  only  quarrel  scan- 
dalously with  historical  facts,  but  they  rest  on  wrong 
notions  of  social  causation. 

To-day  we  can  foretell  the  series  of  transforma- 

*  "Ancient  Society."     Part  III,  eh.  I. 

*  "Outlines  of  Sociology,"  p.  io8. 

*  "L'evolution  politique  dans  les  diverses  races  humaines," 
p.  vii. 

*  "Les  lois  sociologiques,"  p.  120. 

S6 


SOCIAL  LAWS 

tions  through  which  a  human  being  will  pass  from 
the  earliest  embryo  stage  on.  To-morrow  we  shall 
be  charting  his  mental  evolution  from  the  first  weeks 
of  infancy  to  the  end  of  adolescence.  E  In  vain,  how- 
ever, i^  does  the  sociologist  aspire  to  do  for  society 
what  the  embryologist  does  for  the  body  and  the  . 
genetic  psychologist  for  the  min4*  The  organism  ' 
obeys  the  wand  of  heredity,  but  society  has  no  he- 
redity. It  is  not  unfolding  what  was  once  folded 
into  it,  as  the  embryo  unfolds  the  predetermined 
parts  and  organs.  Institutions  have  not  developed, 
as  Morgan  suggests,  from  "a  few  primary  germs  of 
thought."  "In  any  order  of  social  facts,"  says 
Tarde,^  "evolution  takes  place  by  successive  inser- 
tions ....  thereby  making  the  course  of  progress 
not  a  smooth,  gentle,  upward  slope,  but  a  ladder 
with  rungs  at  very  unequal  distances."  Far  from 
traveling  a  common  highway  the  peoples  have  fol- 
lowed routes  as  various  as  have  been  their  condi- 
tions of  life. 

If  the  ^n£tic^ sociologist  does  not  conceive  of  an 
institution  as  having  an  "organic  development"  of  its 
own,  he  is  very  liable  to  conceive  it  as  exhibiting 
continuous  improvement,  like  a  tool  or  a  utensil. 
The  succession  of  political  forms  is  regarded  as  a 
perfecting  of  government,  of  domestic  types  as  a 
perfecting  of  the  family,  of  industrial  systems  as  a 
perfecting  of  economy.  Hence  attractive  sequences, 
such  as,  autocracy,  aristocracy,  democracy ;  promis-^ 
cuity,  polygamy,  monogamy;  slavery,  serfdom,  free 

*  "Psychologic   economique,"   p.   284. 
57 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

labor!  Each  form  is  "higher"  than  the  preceding, 
and  the  series  is  never  reversed.  We  can  therefore 
arrive  at  a  "law"  for  each  ascending  series. 

But  the  actual  series  of  forms  is  sometimes  neither 
"evolution"  nor  "progress.'*  One  will  be  disap- 
pointed if  he  looks  either  for  a  uniform  evolution  of 
the  family  from  "the  small,  incoherent,  and  indefin- 
ite" to  "the  large,  coherent,  definite,  and  complex," 
or  for  a  steady  progress  from  the  ethically  "lower" 
to  the  ethically  "higher."  ^^  In  its  metamorphoses  the 
family  is  not  piloted  by  the  ethical  ideal,  nor  does  it 
exhibit  an  evolution  of  its  own.  It  follows  closely 
economic  changes.  "To  every  type  of  economy," 
concludes  Grosse,^  "there  corresponds  a  particular 
type  of  family."  Thus  polygyny  thrives  most 
where  men  control  the  source  of  the  food  supply; 
monogamy  where  woman  has  a  certain  food-getting 
capacity.  The  family  is  strictly  patriarchal  with  the 
pastoral  nomads;  the  matriarchate  appears  only 
when  the  woman  disposes  over  economic  resources 
of  her  own.  Among  hunters  and  pastoralists  the 
clan  will  be  paternal.  In  the  Lower  Agriculture  it 
is  often  maternal.  If  now  the  family  form  is  inti- 
mately sympathetic  with  the  economy  of  a  people, 
and  if  in  the  succession  of  these  economies  there  is 
no  fixed  order — some  hunters  skipping  the  pastoral 
stage  to  become  tillers,  some  nomads  skipping  the 
tillage  stage  to  become  carriers  or  traders — how 

*"Die  Formen  der  Familie  und  die  Formen  der  Wirth- 
schaft,"  ch.  I. 

58 


SOCIAL  LAWS 

will  it  be  possible  to  establish  an  invariable  sequence 
in  domestic  development? 

Vain,  likewise,  is  it  to  frame  a  universal  law  for 
the  succession  of  political  forms.  These  forms  are 
not  so  many  stages  in  the  perfecting  of  government 
but  are  adapted  each  to  the  prevailing  economy,  the 
make-up  of  the  population,  or  the  relation  of  the 
group  to  neighboring  groups.'  Suppose  the  writer 
is  justified  in  his  thesis  that  political  power  becomes 
concentrated  during  a  static  epoch,  when  there  is 
great  inequality  of  economic  opportunity  coinciding 
with  great  inequality  of  possessions,  and  that  it  be- 
comes diffused  during  a  dynamic  epoch  when  the 
doors  of  opportunity  stand  open  to  all.^  Suppose 
Giddings  is  right  in  declaring  that  political  forms 
will  be  coercive  if  society  embraces  marked  diver- 
sities and  inequalities  in  its  membership,  liberal  if 
between  its  members  there  is  great  moral  and  mental 
resemblance.^  Suppose  Gumplowicz  is  right  in  as- 
serting that  the  state  is  most  oligarchic  and  coercive 
just  after  a  conquest,  and  that  as  the  assimilation  of 
conquerors  and  conquered  proceeds  it  becomes  more 
mild  and  liberal.^*  No  one  granting  any  of  these 
suppositions  will  venture,  as  does  Letourneau,  to 
contend  for  a  fixed  sequence  in  political  forms.  For 
if  political  evolution  is  at  the  mercy  of  general  social 
evolution,  it  will  not  be  the  same  for  all  peoples  un- 
less general  social  evolution  is  the  same  for  all 
peoples. 

'  ^  "Social  Control,"  pp.  401-403. 
'  "Inductive  Sociology,"  p.  228. 
'  "Der  Rassenkampf,"  §  38.      .j 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

But  is  general  social  evolution  the  same  for  all 
peoples  ? 

>  There  is,  to  be  sure,  one  great  cause  of  uniformity 
in  the  order  of  experiences  in  different  societies. 
Seeing  that  the  human  mind  is  at  bottom  everywhere 
the  same,  those  developments  which  have  inner 
rather  than  outer  causes  are  likely,  even  when  peo- 
ples are  remote  from  one  another  in  space  or  time,  to 
run  parallel,  to  follow,  as  it  were,  a  series  of  logical 
steps.  A  science — mathematics  or  astronomy  for 
instance  —  pursues  everywhere  the  same  course. 
The  same  problems  present  themselves  to  all,  and 
are  solved,  if  solved  they  are,  in  much  the  same 
order.  However  varied  their  surroundings  all 
tribes  flounder  through  animism,  invent  similar 
myths,  or  travel  the  same  route  of  speculation.  It 
is  not  by  chance  that  in  the  early  developments  of 
speech,  of  sex-life,  of  the  practical  arts,  of  cere- 
monies, symbols,  and  games,  we  come  across  those 
deeply  worn  paths  which  Tylor  has  called  ''ethnogra- 
phic parallels." 

Regularity,  then,  will  naturally  characterize  those 
species  of  social  phenomena  which  are  functions  of 
man's  thinking,  and  respond  least  to  outer  circum- 
stance. The  linguistic,  aesthetic,  mythological,  folk- 
lore, philosophic,  scientific,  and  technological  devel- 
opments have  in  them  too  much  of  the  subjective  not 
to  repeat  themselves  under  different  skies  and  in 
diverse  settings.  There  is,  moreover,  in  ethical, 
religious,  and  juridical  development,  an  assimilating 
subjective  factor  working  along  with  external  fac- 

60 


SOCIAL  LAWS 

tors.  But  we  cannot  venture  so  far  as  did  Comte 
generalizing  from  his  extensive  studies  in  the  history 
of  the  sciences.  Had  his  acquaintance  with  the 
metamorphoses  of  institutions  been  wider,  he  would 
not  have  concluded  that — as  Mill  puts  it — "the  order 
of  human  progression  in  all  respects  will  be  a  corol- 
lary deducible  from  the  order  of  progression  in  the 
intellectual  convictions  of  mankind."  '^ 
'  For  there  are  classes  of  social  phenomena  that ' 
are  more  objectively  determined,  and  these  do  not 
easily  lend  themselves  to  laws  of  succession.^ '  Data 
vastly  fuller  than  Comte  had  at  his  disposal  force 
upon  us  the  conviction  that  the  coarse  structural 
facts  of  society  do  not  obey  the  lead  of  mind.  The 
industrial,  domestic,  military,  political  and  ecclesi- 
astical institutions  do  not  follow  the  same  course 
for  all  peoples,  but  develop  in  thraldom  to  outer 
conditions — in  the  final  analysis,  to  the  environment, 
physical  or  human.  Desert,  steppe,  forest,  valley, 
seaport — each  working,  be  it  noted,  not  directly  but 
through  demographic  and  economic  factors,  moulds 
a'  social  type  which  will  undergo  certain  transfor- 
mations of  its  own.  Then,  too,  much  depends  upon 
access  to  alien  social  groups.  The  presence  or  ab- 
sence of  other  societies  and  cultures  decides  whether 
a  people  shall  stagnate  or  progress,  be  militant  or  in- 
dustrial, develop  as  a  simple  or  as  a  composite  so- 
ciety. 

We  may,  in  fact,  think  of  society  as  developingj 
with  reference  to  two  foci,  the  subjective  and  the  ob- 
jective.    The  unfolding  of  the  mind  being  apparent- 
ex 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

!y  the  same  among  different  peoples,  those  social  phe- 
nomena which  lie  nearest  the  subjective  focus  will 
exhibit  in  their  transformations  a  certain  logic  and 
regularity.  Environments,  on  the  other  hand,  im- 
pose modes  of  existence  extremely  unlike,  and  there- 
fore in  differently  situated  social  groups  those  social 
phenomena  lying  nearest  the  objective  focus  will 
undergo  not  parallel  but  divergent  evolution. 

Moreover,  owing  to  the  fact  that  from  the  very 
lity  of  the  mind  every  culture  stage  presents  itself 
is  a  whole,  in  which  each  element  acts  upon  every 
)ther  element;  owing  to  the  fact  that  the  forms  of 
(industry,  of  family,  of  government,  of  law,  of  wor- 
ship, and  of  art,  are  sympathetically  adjusted  to  one 
another,  it  is  likely  that  even  the  forms  about  the 
subjective  pole — art,  philosophy,  religion  and  the 
like — will  be  tinged  with  something  local  and  dis- 
\y  tinctive.    'Hence,  I   cannot  but  conclude-  that  the 

development  of  a  partiriilar  r,rr\(^r  «^f  institntinn^  ts, 

in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  multilinear,  and  that  the 
endeavor  to  establish  in  each  sphere  of  social  life  a 
single,  typical  sequence  of  changes  is  bound  to  fail;' 
For  a  different  reason  we  reject  formulations  like 
De  Greef's  law^  of  the  development  of  exchange, 
viz.,  that  merchandise  money  gives  way  to  weighed 
metallic  money,  this  to  coined  metallic  money,  this 
in  turn  to  the  bank  note,  and  the  bank  note  to  the 
clearing-house  set-off.  The  sucession  here  is  in- 
dubitable, but  have  we  a  law  ?  If  we  raise  to  the 
dignity  of  a  law  the  series  of  steps  in  the  perfecting 

*"Les  lois  sociologiques,"  p.  103. 
62 


SOCIAL  LAWS 

of  any  instrument  or  process,  social  laws  will  be 
cheap.  There  will  be  volumes  of  them.  The  his- 
tory of  the  arts  furnishes  us  with  formulae  for  the 
evolution  of  the  plow,  the  pot,  the  gun,  the  loom, 
the  process  of  weaving,  of  smelting,  of  brewing, 
and  of  hundreds  of  other  practical  items.  Does 
anyone  care  to  make  these  the  building  stones  of  a 
science  of  society? 

Let  no  one  suppose  that  the  foregoing  aims  to  bar 
out  true  dynamic  laws  disclosing  a  chain  of  causes 
and  effects.  It  is  because  an  institutional  form  is  ^ 
not  the  cause  of  its  successor  that  we  cannot  admit  f 
a  law  of  succession  for  each  aspect  of  social  evolu- 
tion. But  there  is  no  objection  to  formulating  the 
relation  between  a  prime  motor  of  social  change, 
and  the  developmental  process  it  initiates,  between 
the  leaping  spark  and  the  train  of  consequences  it 
ignites.  '^We  can,  therefore,  welcome  as  a  founda- 
tion pier  of  sociology  the  law^  established  by  Gum- 
plowicz  and  Ratzenhofer  that  the  conjugation  of  two  J 
societies  through  conquest  and  subjection  is  fol- 
lowed by  a  rapid  evolution  of  structure,  and  the  law 
of  cross-fertilization  adumbrated  by  Buckle  and 
Tarde  and  formulated  thus  by  Tiele  :^  ''All  {spirit- 
ual) development,  apart  from  the  natural  capabili- 
ties of  men  and  peoples,  results  from  the  stimulus 
given  to  self -consciousness  by  contact  with  a  diifet 
ent  stage  of  development,  whether  higher  or  lozver.' 

*  Rassenkampf ,"    §§    34,   35;     "Sociologische   Erkenntniss," 
chs.  13  and  14. 
'"The  Science  of  Religion,"  vol.  I,  p.  239. 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

i  Spencer's  dictum,  that  increase  of  social  mass  is  fol- 
lowed by  greater  differentiation  and  higher  organi- 
zation, can  be  adopted  in  the  amended  form  sug- 
gested by  Durkheim.^  ''The  dii(ision  of  labor  varies 
directly  as  the  size  and  density  of  society,  and  if  it 
progresses  continually  in  the  course  of  social  devel-  ■ 
opment,  it  is  because  societies  become  regularly 
denser  and  generally  larger."  With  the  time-hon- 
ored thesis  that  as  the  arts  are  pe^rfected  the  state  of 
society  becomes  less  dependent  bn  local  conditions, 
may,  perhaps,  be  joined  Patten's  law^  that  as  a  race 
emerges  from  a  local  environment  into  a  general 
environment  a  pain  economy  gives  way  to  a  pleasure 
^economy. 

Besides  the  agencies  of  social  change  the  opera- 
tion of  which  is  recognized  in  the  foregoing  laws, 
there  is  the  movement  of  the  human  intellect  to  be 
reckoned  with.  Ward's  law  that  spontaneous  prog- 
ress gives  way  to  telic  progress  and  individual 
telesis  in  turn  yields  relatively  to  collective  telesis, 
expresses  better  even  than  Comte's  famous  formula 
the  necessary  course  of  intellectual  evolution,  be- 
cause it  is  founded  on  the  demonstrable  tendency 
of  an  expanding  intelligence  to  substitute  the  indi- 
rect method  of  obtaining  ends  for  the  direct  method.  ^ 

The  most  promising  field  for  the  discovery  of 
valid  laws  is,  however,  the  coexistence  of  social  phe- 
nomena, rather  than  their  succession.  In  social  life, 
what  goes  with  what?     Which  phenomena  always 

*  "De  la  division  du  travail  social,"  p.  289. 

""The  Development  of  English  Thought,"  pp.  5-10. 

64 


SOCIAL  LAWS 

occur  together  or  never  occur  together?  Of  these 
laws  of  coexistence  the  less  ambitious  relate  to  the 
mode  of  occurrence  of  phenomena.  As  examples  of 
such  laws  of  manifestatiQn  may  be  cited  Giddings's 
proposition^  that  ''Impulsive  social  action  tends  to 
extend  and  intensify  in  a  geometrical  progression" 
and  Tarde's  thesis^  that  imitations  proceed  from  the 
reputed  superior  to  the  reputed  inferior. 

Other  correlations  are  expressed  inlaws  of  re- 
pugnance. Thus  Ward  announces^  that  the  less  a 
type  is  specialized  the  more  likely  it  is  to  persist, 
Tarde  asserts*  that  where  custom  imitation  is  strong, 
mode  imitation  is  weak,  and  vice  versa.  Durkheim 
concludes^  that  suicide  of  the  egoistic  type  "varies 
inversely  with  the  degree  of  integration  of  the  social 
group  to  which  the  individual  belongs,"  Giddings 
declares  that  "Impulsive  social  action  varies  inverse- 
ly with  the  habit  of  attaining  ends  by  indirect  and 
complex  means''^  and  that  "The  degree  of  sympathy 
decreases  as  the  generality  of  resemblance  in- 
creases.'"' 

The  typical  relation,  however,  that  the  investi- 
gator aspires  to  establish  is  that  of  cause  and  effect. 
The  number  of  such  relations  established  is  a  true 
measure  of  scientific  advancement,  and  it  is  there- 
fore a  great  pity  that  a  generation  of  sociologists 

*  "Inductive  Sociology,"  p.  176. 
*"Laws  of  Imitations,"  pp.  213-243. 
'  "Pure  Sociology,"  pp.  76-7. 

*  Ihid.,  pp.  24S-24S. 
•"Le  suicide,"  p.  223. 
•"Inductive  Sociology,"  p.  177. 
^  Ibid.,  p.  108. 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

spent  their  time  gathering  the  Dead  Sea  fruit  of 
analogical  and  genetic  laws,  instead  of  seeking  those 
laws  of  causation  which  are  the  peculiar  treasure  of 
a  science.  Within  the  last  dozen  years,  however, 
scholars  have  thrown  themselves  into  the  quest  for 
true_cail§es,  and  their  gains  have  availed  to  take 
away  from  sociology  the  reproach  of  barrenness. 
Those  spokesmen  of  the  more  developed  branches  of 
knowledge,  who,  because  of  her  early  errors  of 
method,  dispute  the  youngest  of  the  sciences  her 
rightful  place,  are  simply  ignorant  of  what  is  being 
done. 

t  We  have  Tarde  with  such  laws  as  Tradition  is 
authoritative  and  coercive  in  proportion  to  its  an- 
tiquity,^- and  The  likelihood  of  a  given  invention 
varies  directly  as  the  number  of  minds  possessing 
and  capable  of  fusing  the  ideas  composing  it,  and 
inversely  as  the  number  of  antecedent  inventions 
necessary  to  be  made.^  With  regard  to  social  or- 
ganization Giddings  sets  up  two  laws,^  one  that  it  is 
coercive  in  proportion  as  the  population  is  hetero- 
geneous, and  the  other  that  it  is  coercive  in  propor- 
tion as  sympathetic  and  formal  like-mindedness  pre- 
dominates over  deliberative  like-mindedness. 

Veblen  has  established  the  significant  law  that  in 
proportion  as  a  leisure  class  becomes  inHuential,  the 
reigning  standards  of  right,  of  decency,  of  beauty, 
and  of  ritualistic  fitness,  conform  to  the  principle  of 

^  "Laws  of  Imitations,"  ch.  VII. 

*  "La  logique  sociale,"  ch.  IV,  sees.  Ill  ^nd  V. 

•  "Inductive  Sociology,"  pp.  226-228. 

66 


SOCIAL  LAWS 

Conspicuous  Waste. ^  J  Bougie  has  won  ground  from 
the  ideologists  by  proving  that  notions  of  human 
equality  make  their  way  in  proportion  as  society  be- 
comes large,  dense,  mobile,  complex,  and  uniiied^ 
Miss  Simons^  has  formulated  for  assimilation  five 
laws  which  so  thoroughly  reveal  the  process  that 
the  subject  is  for  the  present  done  with,  uftrhe  writer, 
in  addition  to  the  laws  he  has  formulated  in  Social 
Control,  believes  the  following  to  be  true:  Social 
ord£!tiis^stabkJtL  proportion,  as- the -power  joi^iSidHu., 
Jo  resist  exceeds  his  power  to  aggress,  and  hisjudlL. 
to  resist  exceeds  his  will  to  aggress.      ^  ^ 

Although  some  set  up  a  law  for  any  constant  rela- 
tion discovered  between  facts,  the  usage  of  the  long 
established  sciences  restricts  the  term  "law"  to  the 
relation  between  facts  of  variation.  The  relation 
between  one  set  of  unvarying  facts  and  another  set 
is  expressed  in  a  generalisation.  Of  valuable  formu- 
lae of  this  kind  the  progress  of  sociology  furnishes 
numerous  examples.  There  is  Buckle's  thesis,*  that 
intellectual  progress  rather  than  moral  progress  is 
the  driving  force  of  civilisation.  Recall  Spencer's 
conclusion*^  that  the  kind  of  activities  (militant  or 
industrial)  predominant  in  a  society  determines  the 
type  of  military  or  industrial  organisation,  the  prin- 
ciples of  law,  the  spirit  of  religious  and  ethical 


"■  "Theory  of  the  Leisure  Class,"  ch.  VI. 
'  Les  idees  egalitaires." 

*  American  Journal  of  Sociology,  May,  1901,  p.  807. 

*  "History  of  Civilization  in  England,"  vol.  I,  ch.  IV. 

*  "Principles  of  Sociology,"  vol.  II,  part  V,  chs.  XVII  and 
XVIII. 


67 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ideals,  and  the  statues  of  the  weak.  Ratzenhofer^ 
sets  up  the  proposition  that  conquest  and  subjection 
entail  necessarily  the  passage  from  the  tribal  to  the 
civil  organization.  Tiele^  avers  that  the  influence 
of  general  development  manifests  itself  later  in  re- 
ligion than  in  any  other  department  of  human  life. 
Dr.  Ward*  has  made  it  clear  that  social  structures 
are  the  products  of  the  interaction  of  unlike  social 
forces.  De  Greef*  is  convinced  that  the  more  gen- 
eral social  phenomena  determine  in  a  general  way 
the  m,ore  special  social  phenomena.  Tarde**  has 
demonstrated  that  imitations  are  refracted  by  their 
media,  and  that  imitation  is  unilateral  before  it  is 
reciprocal. 

''Such  are  the  principal  formulae  contributed  by  so- 
ciology to  the  common  stock  of  scientific  truth. 
When  these  have  been  criticised,  broken  up  and  re- 
cast half  a  dozen  times,  we  shall  begin  to  possess  a 
stable  body  of  doctrine.'  The  exhibit  certainly  ought 
to  reassure  all  sociologists.  "The  lips  of  the  morn- 
ing are  reddening."  Shafts  of  light  pierce  the  jun- 
gle in  many  directions.  Every  year  sees  new  roacjsi 
and  clearings,  and  the  time  draws  near  when  the 
whole  region  will  lie  open  to  the  day. 
^^  The  question  sometimes  arises  as  to  whether  a  cer- 
tain law  is  to  be  counted  to  sociology  or  to  econom- 
ics, politics,  or  jurisprudence.     It  seems  well  to  ap- 

•  "SociologiscHe  Erkenntniss,"  p.  212. 
'  Op.  cit.,  pp.  228-230. 

•"Pure  Sociology,"  pp.  183-4. 

*  "Le  transformisme  social,"  Deuxieme  partie,  ch.  I. 
•"Laws  of  Imitations,"  pp.  22-3,  37i-9« 

68 


SOCIAL  LAWS 

ply  here  De  Greef's  distinction^  between  simpl£_^nd^ 
compound  laws,  the  former  expressing  relations  be- 
tween phenomena  of  the  same  class,  the  latter  rela- 
tions between  phenomena  of  different  classes. 
^  ^When  we  unite  two  economic  facts,  as  in  the  propo- 
sition that  the  investment  of  capital  varies  directly 
with  the  rate  of  interest,  we  have  an  economic  law. 
When  we  unite  two  political  facts,  as  in  the  proposi- 
tion that  as  national  oppositions  groiv,  party  opposi- 
tions weaken,  we  have  a  law  of  political  science. 
When,  on  the  other  hand,  we  join  a  political  to  an 
economic  fact,  as  in  the  proposition  that  zvith  the  dif- 
fusion of  economic  opportunity  the  tension  between 
classes  lessens,  we  have  a  social  law.  By  the  same 
right  we  may  count  as  social  Robertson  Smith's  law* 
that  the  rise  of  a  commonwealth  or  hierarchy  of  gods 
follows  step  by  step  the  coalescence  of  small  social 
groups  info  larger  unities,  and  Nieboer's  generaliza- 
tion^ that  "Slavery  as  an  industrial  system  is  not 
likely  to  exist  zvhere  subsistence  depends  on  natural 
resources  zvhich  are  present  in  limited  quantity/* 
'^In  general,  however,  the  typical  social  law  is  not 
the  statement  of  a  relation  between  facts  of  different 
classes.  It  is  more  apt  to  develop  a  fundamental 
truth  underlying,  rather  than  connecting,  the  special 
social  sciences.  The  action  of  one  ethnic  group 
upon  another  as  formulated  in  Gumplowicz's  law  is 
determinative  of  political,  military,  economrc,  ~and 
domestic  facts.     In  other  words  the  law  discloses  a 

^  "Les  lois  sociologiques,"  p.  138. 

*"The  Religion  of  the   Semites,"  pp.  39-41. 

■"Slavery,"  p.  387. 

69 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

basiCL-truth.  Veblen's  principle  is  of  equal  interest 
for  ethics,  aesthetics,  and  the  science  of  religion. 
The  laws  of  imitation  formulated  by  Tarde  are  help- 
ful to  the  linguist  as  well  as  to  the  economist,  to  the 
demographer  as  well  as  to  the  political  scientist. 
Many  of  Giddings's  laws  disclose  characteristics  of 
all  manner  of  associations,  or  tendencies  present  in 
all  departments  of  social  life,  in  sooth,  an  inven- 
tory of  its  results  convinces  one  that  sociology  is  not 
so  much  a  sister  science  to  politics  or  jurisprudence, 
as  a  fundamental  and  comprehensive  discipline  unit- 
ing at  the  base  all  the  social  sciences. 


IV 

THE  UNIT  OF  INVESTIGATION  IN  SOCIOLOGY* 

In  Bunyan's  allegory  the  pilgrims  to  the  Celestial 
City  find,  even  at  the  very  gateway  of  heaven,  a 
little  wicket  that  admits  to  a  path  leading  down  to 
hell.  In  like  manner  the  student  of  society,  after  he 
has  traversed  the  theological  and  the  metaphysical 
methods  of  explaining  his  facts,  and  has  come  to  the 
very  threshold  of  the  scientific  method,  finds  inno- 
cent-looking side-paths  that  lead  off  into  the  waste. 
Two  of  these — the  analogical  and  the  genetic  inter- 
pretations— have  been  pointed  out.  I  now  propose 
to  show  how  one  wanders  off  into  the  wilderness  by 
adopting  a  wrong  unit  of  investigation. 

That  bizarre  forerunner  of  sociology,  the  philoso- 
phy of  history,  assumed  that  the  experiences  of  a 
particular  society — Sicily  or  Poland,  for  example — 
are  but  parts  of  a  single  mighty  process.  The  life 
of  humanity — or  at  least  of  Occidental  humanity — 
can  be  brought  under  a  single  formula.  History 
IS  a  swelling  stream  formed  of  the  confluence  of 
many  tributaries,  all  taking  their  rise  within  the 
limits  of  a  single  vast  basin.  To  explain  history  as 
St.  Augustine  or  Bossuet  would  explain  it,  is  to  de- 

*  Vide  The  American  Journal  of  Sociology,  September, 
1903. 

71 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

termine  the  goal  of  the  whole  process  and  the  con- 
tribution of  each  of  the  various  parts. 

The  widening  of  the  ethnological  horizon,  how- 
ever, kept  bringing  into  view  other  valleys  traversed 
by  other  streams.  Scores  upon  scores  of  currents 
of  social  development  were  discovered — no  Father 
of  Waters,  it  is  true,  like  the  flood  that  bears  along 
us  Occidental  millions,  but  still  rivers  having  a 
source  and  a  direction  of  their  own.  All  the  variety 
the  philosophers  of  history  could  get  came  from  trac- 
ing up  some  tributary  of  the  Occidental  current,  the 
Etruscan,  the  Egyptian,  the  Phoenician,  or  the  He- 
brew culture.  But  latterly  we  have  found  many  in-  ^ 
dependent  streams  of  civilization,  such  as  the  Peru- 
vian, Cambodian,  Mayan,  and  Chinese  civilizations. 
What  of  the  Ashantees,  the  Damaras,  the  Bantu,  the 
Aztecs,  the  Amerinds,  the  Samoyeds,  the  numerous 
hill  tribes  of  India,  or  the  little  human  clusters  in 
the  islets  of  Oceania?  What  of  the  Japanese,  the 
Javanese,  the  Coreans,  the  Afghans?  What  of  the 
early  Celts,  the  Germans,  the  Slavs,  the  tribes  of  the 
Caucasus?  Each  of  these  has  a  development  and  a 
fate  of  its  own ;  and  if  its  language,  its  arts,  or  its 
religious  speculations  be  partly  borrowed,  it  never- 
theless passes  through  stages  of  industry,  law,  and 
government  which  are  determined  by  local  and  spe- 
cial conditions  and  not  by  foreign  influences.  Here 
are  (or  rather  were,  for  some  have  sunk  into  the 
sand,  and  others  have  emptied  into  larger  rivers)  so 
many  social  streams,  each  with  its  own  slope  and 
cataracts  and  with  fluctuations  betraying  nothing  of  * 

72 


UNIT  OF  INVESTIGATION  IN  SOCIOLOGY 

the  ebb  and  flood  we  have  gauged  in  the  Nile  of  our 
European  civilization. 

^^  It  is  the  signal  merit  of  Spencer  that,  like  Aris- 
totle, he  perceived  that  humanity  has  toiled  upward 
in  separate  bands  and  along  many  paths.  By  heav-  ^ 
ily  ballasting  his  sociological  theses  with  facts  gath- 
ered from  numerous  remote  and  outlandish  societies, 
by  sternly  denying  us  the  panoramic  effects  so  dear 
to  the  philosophers  of  history,  he  broke  the  spell  of 
the  near,  and  taught  us  how  vast  and  how  varied  is 
the  field  of  social  evolution.  It  is  now  clear  to  all 
that  the  independent  linguistic,  religious,  political, 
and  domestic  evolutions  brought  to  light  are  suf- 
ficently  numerous  to  afford  a  fair  basis  for  compari- 
son and  induction.  By  assembling  facts  of  a  given 
kind  from  every  society,  past  and  present,  of  which 
we  have  any  knowledge,  Letourneau  has  been  able 
to  build  up  his  great  studies  in  marriage,  slavery, 
commerce,  education,  and  religion.^  These,  al- 
though they  are  not  sociology,  are  so  many  collec- 
tions of  sorted  materials  ready  to  the  hand  of  the 
inductive  sociologist. 

In  the  last  paper  it  ^vas  shown  how  futile  is  the  en- 
deavor to  establish  laws  of  succession  based  on  the 
parallelism  in  all  societies  of  any  special  develop- 
ment (e.  g.,  domestic  or  political)  taken  in  its  entire- 
ty. Since  there  is  but  one  sequence  of  this  sort  for 
each  society,  the  number  of  cases  cannot  exceed  the 
number  of  societies ;  but  as  the  known  societies  are 
under  very  dissimilar  conditions,  their  developments 

^  Sec  bibliography  at  end  of  volume. 
73 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

of  family  or  state  are  not  sufficiently  parallel  to 
'j^3'ield  a  valid  law  of  succession.  The  error  here  lies 
S  in  taking  too  large  a  unit.  To  reach  inductively  true 
'  laws  of  succession,  we  have  only  to  pass  to  the  little 
series  of  transformations  that  occur  repeatedly  in  the 
life  of  a  single  society.  Such  are  the  consecutive 
changes  by  which  a  luxury  is  transmuted  into  a  con- 
ventional necessity,  a  difference  in  wealth  passes  into 
a  difference  in  rank,  an  elective  head  becomes  a 
hereditary  head,  a  usurping  dynasty  becomes  legiti- 
mate, an  innovation  becomes  orthodoxy,  a  custom 
turns  into  a  right,  a  vice  comes  to  be  a  sin.  Such 
is  the  cycle  that  lies  between  two  conquests  or  two 
economic  crises,  or  two  revivals  of  religion.  Thus 
from  numerous  cases  it  is  possible  to  formulate  the 
normal  development  of  an  innovation  or  a  fashion, 
to  declare  what  is  typical  in  the  formation  of  a  myth, 
the  fixation  of  a  tradition,  the  canonization  of  a 
hero,  or  the  assimilation  of  an  immigrant. 

In  social  life  there  are  indeed  cycles,  only  they  are 
much  more  minute  and  numerous  than  old  Vico  sup- 
posed. It  is  only  the  petty  phenomenon  that  is  often 
'  repeated.  The  bane  of  sociology  has  been  the  em- 
ployment of  large  units,  the  comparison  in  lump 
instead  of  the  comparison  in  detail.  Parallels  have 
been  drawn  between  the  English  Revolution  and  the 
French  Revolution,  between  Caesar's  usurpation  and 
Napoleon's,  between  classic  society  and  modern  so- 
ciety, between  England  and  Carthage,  between  the 
Roman  empire  and  the  British.  We  have,  further- 
more, the  supposed  similarity  of  all  nations  with  the 

74 


UNIT  OF  INVESTIGATION  IN  SOCIOLOGY 

same  form  of  government,  of  all  civilizations  devel- 
oped in  the  same  climatic  zone. 

Tarde  is  perfectly  right  when  he  says :     "This  at-    '      I 
tempt  to  confine  social  facts  within  lines  of  develop- 
ment, which  would  compel  them  to  repeat  themselves 
en  masse  with  merely  insignificant  variations,  has 
hitherto  been  the  chief  pitfall  of  sociology."^ '^^We.  ' 
shall   never  make   headway  until,   renouncing  the 
comparison  of  a  few  huge  and  only  superficially  in- 
tegrated complexes  of  phenomena — such  as  nations, 
epochs,  and  civilizations,  we  condescend  to  compare 
and  group  together  great  numbers  of  small  and  ele-         / 
mentary  socialjacts^^^  Instead  of  generalizing  on  the  *    il 
basis  of  a  few  gross  and  fanciful  resemblances,  we  j! 
ought  to  generalize  on  the  basis  of  numerous  mi-  v. 
nute  and  exact  resemblances.     Just  as  the  scientific 
classification  of  plants  and  animals  founded  on  the 
minute  evidences  of  relationship  brought  to  light  in 
cells  and  organs  supersedes  the  classification  based 
on  broad  superficial  characteristics,  so  every  step 
toward  a  true  science  of  society  removes  us  farther 
from  those  groupings  of  social  fact  which  appeal  to 
the  tyro.  'It  is  better  to  look  for  the  common  fea- 
tures of  crowds  or  clans,  or  secret  societies,  or  min- 
ing^campSj  or  towns,  than  to~  compare  natiolisnt 
is  better  to  draw  parallels  between  systems  of  kin- 
ship or  tenures  of  land,  than  between  civilizations. 
Still  better  is  it  from  the  inspection  of  many  cases  of         ^ 
the  same  kind  to  arrive  at  general  conceptions  or 

*  "Social  Laws,"  p.  25.     There  are  in  the  book  many  other 
passages  bearing  on  this  question. 

75 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

vlaws  concerning  imitation  or  discussion  or  compro- 
mise or  cooperation.  '' 

What  would  have  been  the  fate  of  economics  if 
it  had  conceived  itself  as  Comparative  Industry, 
if  it  had  tontented  itself  with  drawing  parallels  be- 
tween national  economies?  Economics  has  become 
a  true  science  because  within  the  same  national 
economy  it  has  found  hundreds  of  commodities, 
of  establishments,  of  markets,  of  prices,  of  bargains, 
of  individual  acts  of  saving  or  investment  or 
readjustment.  Sociology,  likewise,  in  order  to 
reach  general  truths,  must  penetrate  from  the  mass 
to  the  molecule.  It  must  select  some  simple  relation 
or  interaction  and  pursue  it  through  all  the  infinite 
variety  of  its  manifestations.  From  detecting  vague 
and  superficial  analogies  among  a  small  number  of 
complex  wholes  it  must  pass  to  the  discovery  of  true 
and  deep-lying  resemblances  among  a  large  number 
of  simple  elementary  facts.  '  ^ 

The  contrasts  that  first  attract  the  notice  of  stu- 
dents of  society  are  no  less  ambitious  and  sweeping 
than  we  have  found  the  resemblances  to  be.  St. 
Augustine  makes  the  history  of  humanity  turn  on 
the  antithesis  of  the  Pre-Christian  and  the  Post- 
Christian  epochs,  Bos  suet  on  the  contrast  of  the 
Chosen  People  with  the  heathen  peoples.  Cousin  on 
the  opposition  of  the  Finite  and  the  Infinite.  Among 
the  crude  attempts  at  the  differentiation  of  social 
phenomena  are  Hegel's  balancing  of  Orient  against 
Occident,  Renan's  opposition  of  Semite  and  Aryan, 
St.  Simon's  alternation  of  "organic"  with  "critical" 

76 


UNIT  OF  INVESTIGATION  IN  SOCIOLOGY 

periods  in  the  life  of  society,  Buckle's  broad  contrast 
of  the  Asian  with  the  European  environment,  Ben- 
loew's  division  of  history  into  periods  ruled  respect- 
ively by  the  ideals  of  the  Beautiful,  the  Good,  and 
the  True.  Even  the  keen-eyed  Marx  opposes  to  a 
social  Past  dominated  by  class  struggle,  a  classless, 
strifeless  Future  under  the  collectivist  regime.  Liv- 
ing exemplars  of  this  way  of  treating  things  are  Mr. 
Kidd,^  with  his  polarity  of  ''Western"  with  "An- 
cient" civilization,  and  (on  a  much  higher  plane) 
Mr.  Brooks  Adams,^  whose  over- fondness  for  pivotal 
events  and  moments  leads  him  to  see  in  history,  not 
the  sinuosities  of  a  stream,  but  the  zigzag  path  of  the 
lightning. 

A  great  stride  is  taken  when  it  is  perceived  that 
many  broad  contrasts  of  periods,  races,  and  civiliza- 
tions resolve  themselves  on  closer  inspection  into 
simply  a  more  or  less  of  contrasted  social  phenom- 
ena, which  are  found  in  varying  proportions  with 
every  people  and  at  every  period.  Why  should  we 
with  St.  Simon  oppose  so  sharply  organic  and  crit- 
ical epochs,  when  the  essential  contrast  is  between 
organic  and  critical  tendencies,  which  coexist  in 
every  society?  Why  confront  the  "Age  of  Au- 
thority" with  tHe  "Age  of  Reason,"  when  the  two 
principles  are  found  side  by  side  in  every  community, 
each  bringing  forth  fruits  after  its  kind?  Why  with 
Maine  and  Bagehot  fare  afield  to  contrast  Stationary 
and  Progressive  peoples,  when  progressive  and  un- 

*  "The  Principles  of  Western  Civilization." 

""The  New  Empire!"  '. '  . 

77 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

progressive  types  are  all  about  us,  and  without  leavr. 
ing  our  own  time,  or  even  our  own  town,  we  can 
fathom  the  principal  conditions  of  stagnation  and_ 
progress?  Even  Spencer's  antithesis  of  militant 
and  industrial  societies  resolves  itself — seeing  that 
hardly  any  society  is  wholly  militant  or  wholly  indus- 
trial— into  the  contrast  in  effects  between  fighting 
and  working. 

The  diametrical  oppositions  worthiest  to  figure  in 
sociology  are  such  unlikenesses  as  conflict  and  com-^ 
promise,  competition  and  combination,  class  struggle 
and  social  solidarity,  status  and  contract,  coercive 
cooperation  and  voluntary  cooperation,  imitation 
and  innovation,  custom  and  fashion,  persecution  and 
toleration,  rural  life  and  city  life,  honorable  employ- 
ments and  demeaning  employments,  pecuniary  occu- 
pations and  industrial  occupations,  the  leisure  class 
and  the  productive  class,  the  self-supporting  and  the 
pauper,  interest  groupings  and  likeness  groupings, 
differentiation  and  assimilation.  These  dateless  and 
placeless  antitheses  that  appear  not  once  but  con- 
tinually, not  between  societies  but  within  the  same 
society,  and  so  frequently  that  the  society  or  the 
epoch  often  derives  its  distinctive  character  simply 
from  the  numerical  preponderance  of  the  one  term 
of  the  antithesis  over  the  other — these  are  the  proper 
construction  materials  of  a  science. 

As  it  has  been  with  resemblances  and  contrasts,  so 
has  it  been  with  causes. 

The  theocratic  philosophy  of  history  predicated 
for  all  events  of  consequence  a  single  cause,  namely, 

78 


UNIT  OF  INVESTIGATION  IN  SOCIOLOGY 

the  Divine  Purpose.  Then  came  metaphysicians 
such  as  Hegel,  who  detected  behind  history  the  Idea 
striving  to  realize  itself,  and  Cousin,  who  supposed 
each  nation  to  embody  a  particular  idea,  so  that  war 
is  simply  the  violent  collision  of  Antagonistic  Ideas. 
Akin  to  this  is  the  theory  of  a  national  or  racial 
**genius,"  which  so  dominates  all  the  individuals  of 
a  given  nation  or  race  that  they  cannot  think  or  act 
save  conformably  to  it.  Even  to-day  large  vague 
terms  such  as  "Christianity,"  "democracy,"  and 
"evolution"  are  constantly  used  as  if  they  stood  for 
primary  history-making  forces. 

When  sociologists,  emerging  at  last  from  the 
metaphysical  into  the  positive  stage,  began  to  come 
upon  real  and  ultimate  forces,  they  erred  by  recog- 
nizing only  a  few  large  causes.  Environment  is  a 
true  factor,  but  who  nowadays  would  take  conti- 
nents as  unit  areas  of  characterization,  as  did  Guyot, 
Draper,  and  Buckle  ?  It  is  now  perceived  that  with- 
in the  four  corners  of  a  country  are  several  distinct 
environments,  each  sculpturing  the  souls  of  its  deni- 
zens in  its  own  way.*  Race  is  a  true  factor,  but  in- 
stead of  definite  race  areas — Latin,  Teutonic,  Slavic 
— identified  broadly  with  the  domain  of  a  particular 
family  of  nationalities  or  languages,  cranial  meas- 
urements have  brought  us  to  recognize  in  the  Euro- 
pean population  three  ethnic  types,  mingled  in  every 
conceivable  proportion  and  crossed  in  every  possible 
way.*     The  individual  is  a  true  factor,  but  there  is 

*  Demolins,  "Comment  la  route  cree  le  type  social." 

*  Ripley,  "The  Races  of  Europe";  G.  V.  de  Lapouge, 
"L'Aryen." 

79 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

little  of  value  in  the  Great-Man  theory,  which  sets  up 
a  Hero  for  each  epoch  or  movement  and  subjects 
multitudes  of  men  throug^h  centuries  to  the  spell  of 
his  purpose  or  his  ideal.  For  every  genius  whose 
name  is  remembered  a  hundred  minor  innovators 
have  fallen  into  oblivion.  As  for  the  leader,  he  ac- 
complishes nothing  without  the  consent  of  the  led. 

y  There  are,  in  brief,  as  many  causes  to  a  social  phe- 
nomenon as  there  are  human  wills  involved  Every 
free  individual  is  a  cause.     If,  nevertheless,  it  is  pos- 

•  sible  to  discern  large  and  simple  factors  behind  hu- 
man affairs,  it  is  because  a  few  omnipresent  needs  or 
conditions  or  influences  incline  many  wills  in  the 
same  direction.  Just  as  a  wave  passes  over  a  wheat- 
field  because  the  breeze  strikes  and  bends  every  stalk, 
so  a  historical  movement  occurs  because  a  common 
desire,  dread,  confidence,  or  admiration  shapes  the 
choices  of  multitudes  of  men.  For  the  ultimqte_ 
cause  of  a  social  manifestation  musThe  motive  or 
something  that  can  affect  motive. 

The  more  minute  the  fact  or  relation  we  study, 
the  more  frequent  will  be  the  cases  of  its  occurrence, 
and  the  more  likely  they  are  to  be  so  similar  that  they 
can  be  treated  as  equivalents.     The  adoption  of  petty 

\^  elementary  units  will  therefore  hasten  the  advent 
of  the  day  when,  by  the  simple  counting  of  cases,  we 
can  measure  the  degree  of  sympathy  or  repugnance 
between  one  kind  of  social  phenomenon  and  another, 
or  between  a  social  phenomenon  and  a  physical, 
vital,  or  psychical  phenomenon.  Only  recently  we 
have  gotten  new  light  by  counting  suicides,  conver- 

80 


UNIT  OF  INVESTIGATION  IN  SOCIOLOGY 

sions,  and  lynchings.  In  time  we  shall  tabulate 
feuds,  mobs,  insurrections,  riots,  revivals,  custom 
imitations,  mode  imitations,  race  inter-marriages, 
etc.  '  The  statistical  method,  which  enables  us  to 
measure  social  phenomena  exactly  and  to  substitute 
quantitative  truths  for  qualitative,  constitutes  an  in- 
strument of  precision,  which  certainly  is  destined  to 
be  applied  to  sociological  problems  in  ways  yet  un- 
dreamed of. 

"But  what  of  the  historical  method?"  I  hear  it 
said.  "If  you  insist  on  the  simple,  how  can  you 
utilize  the  critical  occasions,  the  momentous  events, 
the  dramatic  facts  furnished  by  the  historian  ?" 

"History  repeats  itself."  "History  never  exactly 
repeats  itself."  Here  are  two  truths,  the  one  the 
corner-stone  of  sociology,  the  other  just  as  surely  the 
basis  of  a  science  of  history.  There  is  a  notion 
abroad  that  the  scientific  historian  turns  out  partly 
generalized  matter,  whereas  the  sociologist  turns 
out  wholly  generalized  matter.  The  truth  is,  the 
two  men  do  not  usually  deal  with  the  same  materials 
and,  when  they  do,  they  handle  them  differently. 

Sociology  is  one  of  the  abstract  sciences.  The 
sociologist  aims  to  rise  from  particular  cases  to  gen- 
eral terms  which  he  can  employ  in  formulating  gen- 
eralizations and  laws.  He  wants  not  unique  facts,  I  >' 
but  recurrent  facts,  for  which  he  can  frame  a  con-  . 
cept  that  shall  neglect  details  and  emphasize  com- 
mon properties.  The  facts  he  uses  are  in  many  cases 
too  numerous  and  too  insignificant  to  attract  even 
the  notice  of  the  historian.  Take,  for  instance,  the 
6  ^i         8i 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

data  that  seem  to  warrant  the  generalization  that 
every  new  article  of  consumption  is  prized  for  its 
prestige  before  it  is  prized  for  its  utility}  So  far  as 
they  are  not  thrust  upon  us  by  common  observation, 
they  are  gleaned  from  myths,  literature,  biography, 
descriptions  of  manners,  records  of  travel,  etc.,  from 
anywhere  almost  save  the  stately  page  of  history ! 

History  is  not,  as  many  suppose,  the  quarry  to 
which  sociologists  resort  for  their  material.  The 
records  of  the  past — its  monuments,  survivals,  leg- 
ends, documents — are  the  common  quarry  for  both 
historian  and  sociologist.  The  former  explores 
them  for  events,  i.  e.,  things  that  occur  only  once, 
and  are  definite  as  regards  date,  place,  and  person. 
The  latter  prizes  most  the  humble  facts  of  repetition, 
which  interest  the  historian  only  at  those  rare  in- 
tervals when  he  interrupts  the  current  of  his  narra- 
tive to  exhibit  the  state  or  transformations  of  domes- 
tic life,  manners,  industry,  law,  or  religion. 

The  iridescent  personages,  deeds,  situations,  and 
scenes  that  most  engross  the  historian  and  justify 
his  purple  patches — ^the  impeachment  of  Hastings, 
the  execution  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  the  death  of 
Mirabeau,  the  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew,  the  bat- 
tle of  Waterloo,  the  siege  of  Leyden,  the  sack  of 
Magdeburg,  the  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold,  the  Diet 
of  Worms — these  are  intractable  to  the  sociologist 
until  abstraction  has  been  made  of  the  particular  in 
them.     Ere  he  can  use  them  he  must  fade  their  bril- 

^  Gurewitsch,  "Die  Entwickelung  der  menchlichen  Bedurf- 
nisse  und  die  sociale  Gliederung  der  Gesellschaft." 

82 


UNIT  OF  INVESTIGATION  IN  SOCIOLOGY 

liant  tints  to  sober  colors.  On  the  other  hand,  he  is 
intent  on  those  numerous  and  minute  occurrences 
which  record  themselves  in  the  movement  or  redis- 
tribution of  population,  the  changes  in  the  tenure  or 
tillage  of  land,  the  shifting  of  routes  and  markets, 
the  rise  of  cities,  the  multiplication  of  wants,  the 
accumulation  of  capital,  the  growth  of  organization, 
the  rearrangement  of  classes,  the  alteration  of  stand- 
ards, the  hardening  of  dogmas,  or  the  mutations  of 
opinion. 

These  dull-hued  materials,  while  they  do  not  lend 
themselves  to  picturesque  narrative,  while  they  lack 
the  epic  or  dramatic  flavor  of  riots,  battles,  sieges 
and  pageants,  are  the  only  kind  of  stuff  from  which 
we  can  distil  general  truths  or  laws.  This  is  why, 
as  we  turn  the  pages  of  the  best  sociological  writing 
of  to-day,  we  see  so  few  proper  nouns,  we  are  struck 
with  the  dearth  of  allusion  to  dates,  places,  persons, 
or  events.  The  phenomena  explained  are  so  com- 
mon that  everyone  is  familiar  with  them,  and  so 
numerous  that  none  of  them  ever  attains  the  dignity 
of  a  historical  event. 

t>  If  history  really  repeated  itself,  every  historian 
would  be  a  sociologist  in  the  gristle.  But  the  life  of 
a  people  is  not  like  a  game  of  bowls,  where  the  pins 
are  set  up  again  and  again.  It  is  rather  a  drama  in 
many  acts  and  scenes.  Centuries,  dynasties,  rulers, 
parliaments,  always  differ,  and  this  individual  qual- 
ity IS  the  staple  of  the  historian.  He  does  not  dis- 
own the  particular,  he  does  not  shut  his  eyes  to  all 
but  the  common  quality  in  his  facts,  in  order  there- 

83 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

with  to  build  a  general  notion.  He  clings  to  the 
particular,  whereas  the  sociologist  cancels  out  the 
particular.  The  historian  who  aspires  to  be  *  sci- 
entific"— rather  than  a  mere  chronicler  or  narrator — 
is  eager  to  know  causes,  to  find  the  connection  of 
events  with  one  another  and  with  their  underlying 
conditions,  to  fuse  a  complex  of  many  individual 
facts  into  a  characterization  that  will  give  you  the 
Reformation  or  the  Victorian  Era  in  a  nutshell. 
But  with  all  his  bird's-eye  views  of  nations  and  of 
epochs,  he  never  ventures  on  a  law,  lest  he  should 
therewith  divorce  himself  from  his  subject-matter, 
which  is  always  the  unique. 

The  sociologist,  on  the  contrary,  pursuing  as  he 
does  the  same  ideal  as  the  natural  scientist,  has  no 
use  for  the  fact  that  occurs  but  once,  unless,  by  driv- 
ing out  of  it  that  which  is  individual,  he  can  break  it 
up  into  familiar  components.  For  him,  the  Nero- 
nian,  Decian,  Diocletian,  Albigensian,  Waldensian, 
and  Hussite  persecutions  disappear  as  historical 
events  in  order  to  yield  up  to  sociology  something  in 
the  way  of  general  notion  or  statement  with  respect 
to  religious  persecution.  The  Crusades  are  too 
unique  to  furnish  a  law  of  crusades.  But  they  may 
contribute  to  the  framing  of  concepts  or  truths 
under  such  rubrics  as  crowd  psychology,  coopera- 
tion, colonization,  race-struggle,  cross-fertilization 
of  cultures,  etc. 

"^    Just  as  the  old  Ionic  philosophers  sought  to  resolve 
the  universe  into  a  primitive  element— matter,  water, 

a4 


UNIT  OF  INVESTIGATION  IN  SOCIOLOGY 

fire  or  air — so  the  thinkers  of  a  decade  or  two  ago 
imagined  a  single  elementary  fact,  which  should  be 
to  sociology  what  the  molecule  is  to  physics  and  the 
cell  to  biology.  Some  held  contract  to  be  the  char- 
acteristic social  fact ;  others,  mutual  aid  and  the  di- 
vision of  labor.  On  the  one  hand,  conflict  was  held 
to  be  the  essential  social  process ;  on  the  other,  imi- 
tation was  brought  forward  as  the  distinctive  fact 
antedating  all  cooperation  or  contract.  Finally  it 
was  insisted  that  at  the  bottom  of  every  social  phe- 
nomenon lies  the  constraint  of  the  individual  by  con- . 
ventions  and  institutions. 

Now,  there  never  has  been  a  good  reason  for  sup- 
posing we  shall  be  able  to  reduce  everything  social 
to  a  single  element.  The  straining  for  an  elemen- 
tary social  fact  was  really  due  to  the  desire  of  the 
best  minds  to  break  away  from  the  deadening 
clutches  of  the  organic  analogy.  The  society-is-an- 
organism  philosophy  drew  social  phenomena  into 
such  close  relations  with  vital  phenomena  that  soci- 
ology had  not  room  to  live.  Hence,  the  restless  cast- 
ing about  for  that  in  society  which  differentiates  it 
from  the  organism,  for  some  quality  in  social  phe- 
nomena which  is  specific.  Now  that  the  analogy  in- 
cubus has  been  shaken  off,  there  is  no  reason  to  look 
for  a  single  elementary  social  fact.  When  the  assay 
is  completed,  at  the  bottom  of  the  crucible  will  prob- 
ably be  found  several  ultimates. 

What,  now,  are  the  final  units  of  investigation  in 
sociology  ? 

We  cannot  take  the  individual  as  our  unit  unless 
85 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

we  rob  anthropology  of  its  unit.  Only  a  part  of 
man — the  spiritual  part — is  moulded  by  association. 
He  gets  hungry,  tired,  or  sleepy  as  a  man,  not  as  a 
socius.  Many  of  his  instincts,  cravings,  and 
thoughts  are  pre-social,  or,  if  you  prefer,  extra- 
social.  Like  the  walls  of  old  castles  that  have 
weathered  into  oneness  with  the  cliflf,  the  socialized 
part  of  us  is  so  weathered  that  you  can  hardly  tell 
where  it  leaves  off  and  temperament  or  individuality 
begins.  It  is  certain,  nevertheless,  we  cannot  reduce 
the  whole  man  to  a  "cell"  in  a  "social  organism." 
Not  everyone  has  that  blotting-pad  texture  which 
makes  him  absorb  the  ideas  and  prejudices  that  pre- 
vail about  him.  Some  of  us  do  get  printed  with  the 
full  design  of  our  time  and  tribe.  But  most  of  us 
take  the  pattern  only  in  spots,  and  there  are,  more- 
over, eccentrics  and  recalcitrants  who  utterly  refuse 
♦o  be  drawn  in  between  the  social  rollers. 

Nor  can  we  take  as  our  unit  the  social  organ^ 
meaning  thereby  the  functional  group.  So  long  as 
division  of  labor  was  regarded  as  the  leading  feature 
of  society,  it  was  natural  to  be  chiefly  interested  in 
the  coordinated  groups  of  workers,  fighters,  or  di- 
rectors. But  it  has  come  to  be  perceived  that  there 
are  many  groups  which  can  in  no  sense  be  said  to 
fulfill  in  society  an  office  analogous  to  that  of  an 
organ  in  a  living  body.  Alongside  of  their  func- 
tional groupings,  men  are  found  associated  into 
guilds,  corporations  and  parties,  bound  together  by 
a  community  of  aims,  and  striving  each  to  gain  an 
advantage  at  the  expense  of  the  rest.     Nor  is  this 

86 


UNIT  OF  INVESTIGATION  IN  SOCIOLOGY 

all.  Besides  these  interest  groups,  we  recognize  in  . 
classes,  castes,  and  sects  likeness  groups,  held  to- 
gether by  the  consciousness  of  kind.  Beyond  them 
we  may  distinguish  natural  groups,  such  as  family 
and  neighborhood,  and  fortuitious  groups,  such  as 
crowd  or  public. 

In  truth,  people  are  ever  clasping  and  unclasping 
hands,  uniting  now  for  a  day,  now  for  life  Could 
we  run  history  through  a  biograph,  we  should  see  y 
groups  forming,  dissolving,  and  re-forming,  like  the 
figures  of  dancers  on  the  floor  of  a  ball-room 
What,  then,  is  more  natural  than  to  conclude :  "The 
group  is  the  true  unit  of  investigation  in  sociology"  ? 

Now,  whoever  will  acquaint  us  with  the  genesis, 
development,  and  maintenance  of  all  kinds  of  groups 
will  lead  us  far,  very  far,  toward  our  goal.  But jy^- 
cial  bonds  appear  in  relations,  as  well  as  in  group- 
Mgs.  Here  are  friends,  comrades,  partners  deter- 
mining one  another.  Here  is  a  nexus  between  apos- 
tle and  disciple,  leader  and  follower,  principal  and 
agent,  pastor  and  layman,  liege  and  vassal.  To  set 
forth  the  content  of  the  various  typical  relations  that 
exist  or  have  existed  is  surely  a  duty  of  the  sociolo- 
gist. 

Even  group  and  relation  do  not  exhaust  the  as- 
pects of  social  life.  These  are  objective  facts. 
They  evince  themselves  in  behavior,  and  there  is  no 
reason  why  our  neighbors  on  Mars  might  not  study 
them  on  this  planet  if  their  telescopes  are  powerful 
enough.  But  there  are  subjective  facts  that  solicit 
the  attention  of  the  sociologist.     A  rubric  must  be 

87 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

provided  for  the  mythologies,  sciences,  and  arts 
erected  by  the  joint  efforts  of  men,  and  for  the  con- 
ventions precipitated  from  their  interaction. 

There  are  some  who  think  to  unite  the  subjective 
with  the  objective  facts  by  adopting  as  their  unit  the 
institution.  But  this,  too,  is  narrowing.  Intent  on 
the  institution  sociologists  have  neglected  temporary 
groupings  like  the  crowd,  and  so  raised  up  a  swarm 
of  crowd  psychologists,  who  make  sport  of  their 
institutional  lore.  They  have  also  neglected  illicit 
social  formations,  such  as  have  not  received  the  bap- 
tism of  social  recognition  and  approval.  To  the  sci- 
entific eye  a  Camorra  or  Mafia,  a  furtive  gang  of 
criminals  or  "combine"  of  boodlers,  is  as  interesting 
and  significant  as  a  College  of  Cardinals  or  a  Su- 
preme Court.  But  the  institutional  bias  scorns 
them,  and  so  writers  on  government  have  enlarged 
on  the  parts  and  organs  duly  constituted  and  pre- 
sented to  the  public  view,  and  have  ignored  the 
veiled  apparatus  of  parties,  caucuses,  rings,  machines 
and  bosses,  that  work  the  mechanism  in  front  of  the 
curtain.  Only  recently  have  political  scientists 
shown  a  disposition  to  explore  the  real  springs  and 
forces  behind  the  government. 

There  is,  moreover,  a  distinction  between  institu- 
tion and  structure  the  neglect  of  which  has  created 
much  confusion.  An  institution  is  a  grouping  or  re- 
lation that  is  sanctioned  or  permitted  by  society. 
The  actual  may  or  may  not  conform  to  the  sanc- 
tioned. The  polyandry  of  our  great  cities,  however 
rife,  is  not  an  institution.     The  monogamic  union. 


UNIT  OF  INVESTIGATION  IN  SOCIOLOGY 

however  rare,  would  be,  nevertheless,  an  institution. 
Spencer,  confounding  monogamy  de  jure  with  mon- 
ogamy de  facto  is  unable  to  find  ''that  social  progress 
and  progress  toward  a  higher  type  of  family  life  are 
uniformly  connected."  Had  he  drawn  the  above 
distinction,  he  would  have  viewed  the  pairing  family 
of  the  Veddahs  and  other  low  types  as  a  practice, 
but  not  an  institution.  "Property,"  too,  is  used  in 
both  senses.  Sometimes  it  designates  "things  pos- 
sessed"; sometimes  it  means  "a  conventional  right 
to  things."  As  an  institution,  property  is  certainly 
a  subjective  fact,  to- wit,  a  general  willingness  to 
enforce  by  social  sanctions  a  man's  claim  to  things 
that  have  come  to  him  in  approved  ways. 

Again,  if  the  institution  is  the  thing  to  be  ex- 
plained, the  ground  is  cut  from  underneath  the  lower 
human  and  sub-human  sociology.  For  in  a  group  of 
animals  we  find  interactions,  modes  of  mutual  aid, 
habits  of  cooperation,  etc.  But  do  we  find  modes 
of  life  with  a  collective  sanction  annexed  ?  Can  we 
detect  authorized  relations  imposed  by  the  commu- 
nity upon  reluctant  members  ? 

Since  not  only  our  relations  to  others  are  mat- 
ters of  social  surveillance,  but  also  our  private  life, 
some  suggest  that  we  adopt  the  social  imperative  as 
the  unit.  Now,  an  institution  is  a  sanctioned  rela- 
tion ;  an  imperative  is  a  sanctioned  action  or  belief. 
But  in  addition  to  these  there  exist  important  uni- 
formities of  belief,  action,  or  feeling,  which  are  in  no 
wise  binding  on  the  individual.  Imitation,  or  the 
influence    of    a     common    environment,     extends 

89 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

through  a  population  great  planes  of  knowledge, 
opinion  or  desire,  which  support  the  forms  of  collect- 
ive life.  Upon  these  platforms  of  common  opinion 
or  common  will  are  erected  imperatives  and  institu- 
tions. It  is  true  that  a  uniformity  of  any  kind  tends 
to  stiffen  into  a  convention,  tends  even  to  develop  the 
hard  cutting-edge  of  a  social  imperative.  It  is  true 
that  the  prevalent  tends  to  become  the  uniform,  the 
uniform  the  expected,  the  expected  the  obligatory, 
the  obligatory  the  compulsory.  Still  Durkheim  is 
not  warranted  in  enlarging  the  term  ''institution" 
so  as  to  include  myths,  dogmas,  legends,  languages, 
arts,  and  sciences.  Not  until  these  planes  extend 
themselves  by  constraint  is  it  proper  to  term  them 
institutions. 

Moreover,  unless  we  include  the  uniformity 
among  our  units,  we  shall  have  no  place  for  the 
phenomena  of  crowds,  since  the  social  nature  of 
these  agglomerations  is  too  undetermined  to  leave 
a  precipitate  in  the  form  of  an  imperative  or  insti- 
tution. Durkheim,  indeed,  sets  these  crowd  unan- 
imities apart  as  "social  currents."  It  seems  better, 
however,  to  bring  them  under  the  rubric  of  uni- 
formities. 

The  five  units  so  far  favorably  considered — 
,  I  groups,^relations,^institutions,^imperatives? uniform- 
ities— are  products.  They  precede  the  individual 
and  they  survive  him.  To  the  onlooker  they  appear 
as  gods  or  fates,  moulding  the  lives  and  disposing 
upon  the  destinies  of  ordinary  men.  Nevertheless, 
they  have  all  risen  at  some  time  out  of  the  actions 

90 


UNIT  OF  INVESTIGATION  IN  SOCIOLOGY 

and  interactions  of  men.     To  understand  their  gene-    / 
sis  we  must  ascend  to  that  primordial  fact  known  as 
the  social  process. 

*^  Take,  for  instance,  a  social  uniformity.  In  what 
ways  may  it  originate  ?  It  may  arise  through  ^jt-X 
posure  to  similar  external  influences,  such  as  climate 
or  occupation/  It  may  come  about  through  the  pro- 
pagation of  an  idea  or  a  practice  from  person  to  per- 
son, from  class  to  class.  It  may  be  due  to^rans- 
mission  within  the  family,  or  to  identity  of  instruc- 
tion. It  may  come  from  t\\t^ orientation  of  many 
minds  by  a  common  shock  or  experience.  It  may 
come  from  the  fascination  of  the  Many  by  the  One, 
or  from  th^  intimidation  of  the  One  by  the  Many. 
At  the  beginning,  then,  of  every  umformlty.may  be 
found  a  process,  which  process  exhibits  a  regularity 
that  permits  the  formulation  of  laws.  ">  > 

Certain  influences  have  conspired  to  divert  the  at- 
tention of  social  investigators  from  processes.  The 
product  uprears  itself  like  the  mast  of  a  ship  or  the 
steeple  of  a  church.  Here  is  the  institution — primo- 
geniture, lex  talionis,  trial  by  jury — huge,  conspic- 
uous, enduring.  We  inspect  it,  handle  it,  describe 
it,  but  neglect  the  generative  process,  that  which 
Emerson  terms  "the  quick  cause  before  which  all 
forms  flee  as  the  driven  snows,  itself  secret,  its 
works  driven  before  it  in  flocks  and  multitudes." 

Spencer,  in  his  Descriptive  Sociology,  has  listed 
the  institutions  and  structures  of  vanished  peoples, 
these  being  the  hard,  durable  parts  of  a  society,  that 
can  most  easily  be  recovered  from  the  records.     But 

91 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

of  the  processes  that  brought  them  forth  we  have 
no  hint.  Just  as  the  cave  breccia  yields  us  fossil 
bones,  but  not  fossil  flesh,  so  the  past  renders  up  its 
institutions,  but  not  its  social  life.  Attacking  the 
problems  of  social  evolution  rather  than  those  of 
social  theory,  Spencer  had  to  work  much  with  by- 
gone societies,  and  hence  missed  many  processes 
which  later  observers  have  detected  in  the  life  about 
us.  This  is  why  he  makes  his  institutions  arise  and 
evolve  almost  without  the  intervention  of  the  human 
will.  His  phraseology  seems  to  endow  them  with 
inherent  tendencies  to  become  this  or  that. 

A  product  is,  moreover,  discovered  sooner  than 
the  process  that  lies  behind  it.  It  is  easy  to  perceive 
that  the  commonplace  person  is  what  he  is  by  reason 
of  the  culture  and  conventions  which  have  sur- 
rounded him  from  childhood.  But  it  is  difficult  to 
rend  the  veil  that  enshrouds  these  elements  and  de- 
tect how  they  themselves  arose  out  of  the  initiatives 
and  interactions  of  bygone  men.  Just  as  anatomy 
was  developed  long  before  embryology,  so  the  pres- 
ence of  deposits  of  collective  thought  and  action  was 
perceived  long  before  the  chemistry  by  which  they 
were  precipitated.  Professor  Durkheim's  case  well 
illustrates  this  point.  Here  is  a  thinker  who  realizes 
vividly  the  constraint  exercised  upon  the  individual 
by  the  plexus  of  social  forms  about  him,  yet  stands 
helpless  before  the  task  of  explaining  just  how  these 
forms  came  to  be.^ 

The  study  of  products  to  the  neglect  of  processes 

*  "Les  regies  de  la  methode  sociologique." 
92 


UNIT  OF  INVESTIGATION  IN  SOCIOLOGY 

leads  men  to  impute  to  an  institution  a  kind  of  indi- 
viduality, to  imagine  that  it  is  endowed  with  a  vital- 
ity of  its  own  and  endures  until  this  life-force  has 
departed  from  it.  For  instance,  the  origin  of  the 
stigma  currently  attaching  to  manual  labor  is  attrib- 
uted to  remote  servile  conditions,  and  its  presence 
here  is  ascribed  to  vis  inerticB,  The  true  explanation 
is  that  this  spiritual  attitude  is  natural  to  the  mem- 
bers of  a  leisure  class,  and  from  them  it  spreads  out 
through  society,  until,  strange  to  say,  it  infects  the 
manual  laboring  class  itself.  The  stigma,  far  from 
being  a  mere  survival,  is  constantly  reproduced  by 
the  process  of  invidious  comparison. 

Again,  we  commonly  hear  contemporary  aristoc- 
racy interpreted  as  a  remote  historical  phase  petri- 
fied into  a  rigid  institution.  But  it  is,  in  point  of 
fact,  the  visible  product  of  an  unceasing  process  of 
economic  differentiation.  Save  as  it  attaches  itself 
to  permanent  forms  of  wealth,  a  superior  caste  can- 
not endure  without  taking  in  new  blood.  Should 
it  close  its  doors  on  the  rich,  it  would  soon  cease  to 
dominate.  The  differentiation  process  is  continu- 
ally bringing  to  the  top  a  new  crop  of  successful 
men,  who  will  undermine  the  position  of  the  nobility 
unless  they  or  their  children  are  admitted  into  its 
ranks.  The  studied  archaism  which  a  nobility  ha- 
bitually affects  should  not  blind  us  to  the  fact  that 
it  is  the  product,  not  of  a  remote  past,  but  of  a  con- 
tinuing process. 

In  fact,  institutions,  however  hoary  their  brows, 
are  not  really  old,  for  they  are  ever  re-created.  .  The 

«3 


/ 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

authority  of  Pope  or  Kaiser  persists  to-day,  not 
from  the  momentum  accumulated  in  the  far  past, 
but  because  our  generation  builds  it  up  as  rapidly  as 
it  is  torn  down.  The  power  of  noble  or  prelate  en- 
dures only  because  it  is  ever  renewed.  The  load 
the  past  rolls  upon  us  is  not  its  institutions  —  we 
shake  them  off  impatiently  enough  when  we  find 
them  really  burdensome — ^but  its  ideas,  which  con- 
strain us  to  go  on  and  on  reproducing  arrangements 
unsuited  to  our  present  needs.  It  is  the  thoughts 
of  dead  men  that  enslave  us,  not  their  social  order. 
The  mistaken  endeavor  to  make  social  life  hinge 
on  a  single  typical  or  characteristic  process  has 
stamped  with  one-sidedness  nearly  everything  that 
has  been  written  on  sociology.  The  economists, 
preoccupied  with  competition,  are  apt  to  overlook 
combination.  Spencer,  busy  with  the  division  of 
labor,  disregards  imitation.  Gumplowicz,  en- 
grossed in  the  struggle  of  races,  fails  to  note  the  pro- 
cess of  pacific  assimilation  between  peoples.  Tarde 
is  so  interested  in  the  propagation,  opposition,  and 
adaptation  of  ideas  that  even  war  seems  to  him  a 
collision  of  ideas  rather  than  a  clash  of  desires.  Ac- 
commodation so  monopolizes  Durkheim's  vision 
that  he  has  no  eyes  for  innovation.  Loria  sees  class 
struggle  so  clearly  that  he  cannot  perceive  sociali- 
zation. In  short,  each  of  the  paladins  has  seen  a 
part  of  the  truth  and  only  a  part.  It  is  necessary  to 
recognize  in  social  life  a  variety  of  processes  which 
arise  from  diverse  conditions,  obey  different  laws, 
and  have  dissimilar  effects. 

94 


UNIT  OF  INVESTIGATION  IN  SOCIOLOGY 

The  appearance  of  planes  of  thought  or  feeling, 
as  well  as  the  formation  of  groups,  is  conditioned 
by  certain  processes,  which  do  not  involve  the  action 
of  man  on  man,  and  are  not,  strictly  speaking,  social. 
These  may  be  termed  preliminary  processes.  All 
the  denizens  of  a  given  geographical  area,  inasmuch 
as  they  are  being  insensibly  moulded  by  the  same 
physical  surroundings,  are  thereby  being  fitted  to 
receive  the  same  culture,  or  to  draw  together  into 
one  society.  Persons  of  the  same  calling  are  as- 
similated by  the  impressions  and  experiences  con- 
nected with  their  work,  and  are  thus  qualified  to 
embrace  the  same  class  ideal  or  to  unite  in  defense 
of  their  class  interests.  Those  who  have  the  same 
manner  of  life,  or  receive  the  same  education,  be- 
come by  that  fact  potential  socii.  Anterior  to  all 
these  assimilations  there  goes  on  in  childhood  the 
"dialectic  of  personal  growth"^  by  which  the 
thought  of  the  other  person  is  built  into  the  very 
foundation  of  the  thought  of  one's  self. 

The  chief  ways  in  which  the  potentially  social  be- 
come actually  associated  are  the  collision  of  groups 
and  the  congregating  of  individuals.  In  the  former 
case  a  series  of  processes  is  set  up  which  leaves  a 
rich  sediment  in  the  way  of  institutions  and  group- 
ings. These  have  been  fully  described  by  Gum- 
plowicz,  Vaccaro,  Ratzenhofer,  and  Ward.  The 
processes  that  follow  upon  the  pacific  association  of 

*  Baldwin,  "Social  and  Ethical  Interpretations  of  Mental 
Development,"  ch.  I. 

95 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

strangers  have  been  described  by  Sighele,  Rossi,  Le 
Bon,  Tarde,  Giddings,  and  Cooley. 

Whatever  the  mode  in  which  grouping  takes 
place,  the  interactions  do  not  long  remain  on  the 
psychic  plane.  Cooperation,  either  voluntary  or 
compulsory,  is  instituted,  and  ranges  from  the  sim- 
plest cases  of  mutual  aid  to  the  highest  organization 
of  industry  and  exchange.  All  these  processes  have 
been  copiously  treated  by  the  economists  and  by  such 
writers  as  Spencer,  Schaffle,  Von  Lilienfeld,  Durk- 
heim,  and  Kropotkin. 

An  incidental  effect  of  nearly  every  social  process 
is  that  it  renders  men  more  unlike.  If  they  do  not 
compete  with  equal  vigor,  combine  with  equal 
promptness,  or  imitate  with  equal  discrimination, 
they  become  differentiated  as  regards  wealth  or  cul- 
ture or  mode  of  life.  Hereupon  ensues  an  invidious 
comparison  of  self  with  others,  and  the  segregation 
of  the  members  of  a  society  into  non-fraternizing 
classes  or  castes.  Professor  Veblen  has  made  this 
process  peculiarly  his  own.^  Stratification  is,  how- 
ever, limited  by  certain  processes  of  socialisation 
which  tend  to  assimilate  the  members  of  different 
classes,  and  to  oppose  a  barrier  to  the  growth  of  ex- 
treme heterogeneity.  These  have  been  set  forth  by 
Tarde,  Giddings,  Baldwin,  Royce,  and  Cooley. 

Thus  forms  the  crust,  the  firm  fabric  of  arts,  sci- 
ences, world-views,  conventions,  and  institutions, 
upon  which  generations  of  men  dwell  in  concord  and 
security  with  perhaps  no  inkling  of  the  time  when 

'  "The  Theory  of  the  Leisure  Class." 
96 


UNIT  OF  INVESTIGATION  IN  SOCIOLOGY 

this  crust  was  fluid.  But  from  time  to  time  there 
occur  elevations  and  subsidences  of  the  social  crust, 
akin  to  those  which  disturb  the  terrene  crust.  These 
processes  we  may  term  reconstructive  or  dynamic. 
Natural  increase  in  numbers  compels  men  to  adopt 
a  more  intensive  economy,  which  in  turn  brings 
many  changes  in  its  train.  From  prolonged  saving 
there  result  in  time  great  accumulations  of  capital 
which  react  powerfully  upon  the  industrial  organiza- 
tion, the  constitution  of  classes,  and  the  political 
system.  Through  draining,  deforesting,  the  domes- 
ticating and  diffusing  of  animals  and  plants,  there 
are  wrought  lasting  changes  in  the  environment 
which  react  upon  the  social  life  of  later  generations. 
The  gathering  of  men  into  cities  quickens  the  move- 
ment of  ideas  and  forms  centers  of  incandescent  in- 
tellect which  flood  with  light  the  rest  of  society.  By 
migration  to  new  seats  men  rid  themselves  of  the  old 
confining  shell,  and  become  free  to  wind  for  them- 
selves a  new  and  better  cocoon.  The  springing  up 
of  intercourse  between  peoples  that  have  advanced 
on  independent  lines  permits  a  cross- fecundation  be- 
tween their  marriageable  ideas,  and  brings  about  a 
rapid  elevation  of  culture.  Lastly,  there  is  the  man 
of  originality,  the  innovator,  who,  with  his  invention, 
or  discovery,  or  example,  switches  men  on  to  a  new 
track.  To  recur  to  our  former  metaphor,  no  mat- 
ter how  tough  the  social  crust,  sooner  or  later  there 
"comes  by  a  great  inquisitor  who  with  auger  and 
plumb  line  will  bore  an  artesian  well  through  our 
7  97 


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UNIT  OF  INVESTIGATION  IN  SOCIOLOGY 

conventions  and  theories,  and  pierce  to  the  core  of 
things." 

The  program  of  investigation  herewith  outlined  is 
broad,  but  it  is  not  too  broad.  Some  will  complain 
of  omissions,  but  certainly  no  one  will  here  discover 
anything  that  ought  not  to  be  considered  by  a  science 
of  society.  Recently,  social  investigators  have 
shown  a  slight  tendency  to  narrowness.  Each  has 
been  sure  that  the  center  of  sociology  lies  just  where 
his  pick-axe  turns  up  the  richest  ore.  This  is  per- 
haps a  good  sign.  It  means  that  the  promised  land 
once  surveyed  afar  from  a  mountain  peak  by  Comte 
and  Schaffle  is  now  overrun  with  prospectors.  It  is 
well,  however,  for  each  of  us  occasionally  to  climb  out 
of  his  gulch,  inspect  the  nuggets  his  brethern  are  find- 
ing, and  from  some  commanding  point  realize  how 
vast  are  the  dimensions  of  this  new  El  Dorado. 


9S 


MOB  MIND* 

In  observing  social  life  among  animals  one  is 
struck  by  the  contagion  of  feeling  in  a  herd  or  flock. 
Whatever  the  feeling  called  up,  whether  terror,  hos- 
tility to  a  stranger,  rage  at  hereditary  enemies,  or 
sympathy  for  a  stricken  fellow,  all  the  members  of 
the  group  feel  it,  and  feel  it  at  once.  If  anything  un- 
usual occurs,  a  wave  of  excitement  passes  over  the 
herd,  followed  by  instant  and  unanimous  response. 
Of  inquiry  or  doubt  or  reflection  there  is  no  sig^. 

This  prompt  obedience  to  suggestions  from  one's 
fellows  is  accounted  for  the  moment  we  recall  the 
harsh  conditions  of  animal  existence.  It  is  the  gre- 
garious animals  that  are  least  formidable  by  nature 
and  hence  most  dependent  on  mutual  aid.  Instant 
fight  or  flight  is  the  condition  of  their  existence,  and 
failure  to  cooperate  promptly  means  death.  By  oft- 
repeated  sifting  out  of  the  stupid,  the  heedless,  or  the 
willful.  Nature  builds  up  a  marvelous  suggestibility 
and  a  prompt  response  to  sign.  Not  otherwise  can 
we  explain  why  a  feeling  should  run  like  wildfire 
through  a  band  of  elephants  or  terror  should  strike 
through  a  herd  of  deer  as  a  shock  passes  through  a 
solid  body. 

*  Vide  The  Popular  Science  Monthly,  July,  1897. 
100 


MOB  MIND 

The  human  analogue  to  the  agitated  herd  is  the 
mob.  Mob  comes  from  "mobile,"  and  refers  to 
mental  state.  A  crowd,  even  an  excited  crowd,  is 
not  a  mob ;  nor  is  an  excited  crowd  bent  on  violence 
a  mob.  Great  mental  instability  marks  the  true  mob, 
and  this  characterizes  only  the  crowd  that  is  under 
the  influence  of  suggestion.  A  lynching  party  may 
be  excited,  disorderly,  and  lawless  without  being  a 
true  mob.  The  crowd  that  lynched  thirteen  Italians 
in  New  Orleans  a  few  years  ago,  far  from  showing 
the  wavering  indecision  of  the  genuine  mob,  seemed 
to  know  exactly  what  it  wanted  and  just  how  to  go 
about  it.  In  this  respect  it  stood  in  high  contrast  to 
the  Cincinnati  mob  of  1886.  What  distinguished 
the  New  Orleans  crowd  was  the  absence  of  epidemic. 
Its  perfect  unanimity  came  not  from  an  overmaster- 
ing suggestion,  but  from  the  coming  together  of  all 
who  had  been  aflfected  with  the  same  grim  rage  at 
the  news  of  Chief  Hennessey's  assassination. 

Again,  we  must  refuse  the  name  ''mob"  to  the  dis- 
orderly masses  that  in  times  of  tumult  issue  from  the 
criminal  quarters  of  great  cities.  In  such  cases 
there  is  an  unchaining  in  each  man  of  the  evil  and 
secret  lusts  of  his  heart  on  observing  that  oppor- 
tunity is  favorable  and  that  others  are  like  minded. 
Safe  from  punishment  or  shame,  the  ragamuffin  or 
hoodlum  burns,  loots,  and  riots  in  obedience  not  to 
a  common  impulse  but  to  his  natural  inclination.  It 
is  this  peculiar  effect  of  numbers  in  bringing  on  the 
criminal  mood  that  chiefly  marks  off  the  human 
crowd  from  the  animal  crowd. 

lOI 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

More  than  any  other  animal,  man  is  restrained  by 
a  moraHty  founded  not  on  impulse  but  on  discipline. 
Animal  morality  is  mainly  the  prompting  of  fellow- 
feeling.  But  by  the  long  pressure  of  an  artificial 
environment  man  is  brought  to  submit  himself  to 
the  constant  sway  of  a  moral  code  often  quite  alien 
to  his  impulses.  Remove  the  fear  of  consequences 
by  the  anonymity  of  the  crowd,  take  away  the  sense 
of  personal  responsibility  by  the  participation  of 
numbers,  and  people  will  step  by  step  descend  into 
depths  of  evil-doing  and  violence  that  measure  how 
far  their  prevailing  inclinations  lie  below  the  moral 
standard  which  social  pressure  has  forced  upon 
them.  Animals,  because  they  have  been  less  mor- 
alised than  men  by  education,  rarely  show  any  such 
collective  demoralization. 

A  one-mindedness,  therefore,  the  result  not  of  rea- 
soning or  discussion  or  coming  together  of  the  like- 
minded,  but  of  imitation,  is  the  mark  of  the  true  mob. 
We  think  of  the  mob  as  excited  simply  because  it  is 
under  stress  of  excitement  that  men  become  highly 
imitative.  Fickleness  and  instability  characterize  it 
simply  because  mood  changes  promptly  with  every 
change  in  the  nature  of  the  suggestion.  It  is  irra- 
tional because  dominated  not  by  the  remembered 
teachings  of  experience  but  by  the  fleeting  impres- 
sions of  the  moment.  It  is  cowardly  because  its 
members,  actuated  not  by  stern  purpose  or  set  re- 
solve but  by  mere  suggestion,  scatter  in  craven  flight 
the  moment  the  charm  is  broken.  It  is  transitory 
because  the  orgy  of  excitement  leads  to  fatigue  and 

102 


MOB  MIND 

lessened  power  of  response  to  stirauli  from  without. 
In  a  few  hours  the  hypersesthesia  wears  away,  phys- 
ical wants  and  sensations  turn  the  attention  inward, 
the  psychic  bond  is  broken,  and  the  crowd  disperses 
and  goes  home.     A  mob,  then,  defined  for  purposes" 
of  social  psychology,  is  a  crowd  of  people  showing  a 
unanimity  due  to  mental  contagion.      Other  mob ' 
traits  of  which  much  is  made  —  such  as  ferocity,'' 
shamelessness,  criminality,  and  courage — need  not 
flow  from  suggestion  at  all.     More  often  they  are 
the  effect  of  the  sense  of  numbers. 

Analyzing  the  mob  as  thus  defined,  we  find  at  the 
base  of  it  that  mental  quality  termed  suggestibility'^ 
which  comes  to  light  in  gregarious  animals,  children, 
certain  lunatics,  hysterical  patients,  and  hypnotized 
subjects.  It  dominates  childhood,  but  fades  as  char- 
acter sets  and  the  will  hardens.  In  adult  life  it  is  so 
overborne  by  habit  and  reason  as  to  be  dominant 
only  under  abnormal  conditions  such  as  disease,  fas- 
cination, or  excitement. 

Why,  now,  should  this  quality  be  heightened  when 
one  is  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd  ? 

The  inhibitive  power  which  measures  our  ability 
to  go  our  own  way  unperturbed  grows  with  the  vari- 
ety and  number  of  suggestions  that  reach  us.  This 
may  be  because  conflicting  suggestions  block  each 
other  off.  The  power  of  independent  choice  seems 
to  develop  best  when  the  clash  of  suggestions  reduces 
to  a  minimum  the  ascendency  of  the  outer  world  over 
the  individual.  This  is  why  age,  travel,  and  contact 
with  affairs  build  up  character.     But  when  numer- 

103 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ous  identical  suggestions  beset  one,  one's  power  of 
resistance  is  gradually  undermined.  As  many  taps 
of  a  hammer  fracture  the  bowlder,  so  the  onset  of 
multitudinous  suggestion  breaks  the  strongest  will. 
Men  who  can  readily  throw  off  the  thousand  sugges- 
tions of  everyday  life  will  be  quite  swept  away  by 
the  reiteration  of  a  single  idea  from  all  sides.  As  a 
mighty  organ  compels  even  benches  and  windows  to 
vibrate  in  unison  with  it,  so  the  crowd  dominated 
by  a  single  mood  emits  a  volume  of  suggestion  that 
gives  an  emotional  pitch  and  tone  to  every  individual 
in  it. 

Besides  the  volume  of  suggestion  possible  in  a 
crowd,  there  is  usually  a  condition  of  excitement  or 
expectancy.  Frequently,  too,  there  is  a  pressure  on 
the  body  which  prevents  voluntary  movement  and 
wilts  individuality  while  conveying  promptly  to  each 
all  those  electrifying  swayings  and  tremors  that  ex- 
press the  emotions  of  the  mass.  People  are  usually 
more  demonstrative  on  their  feet  than  when  seated 
and  the  standing  position  of  an  assemblage  is  less 
self-possessed  than  the  seated  portion.  The  mere 
physical  contact  in  the  excited  crowd,  therefore,  pro- 
vides certain  conditions  of  suggestibility. 

A  cross-section  of  the  mob  sometimes  shows  a 
concentric  structure.  There  is  in  the  center  a  leader 
from  whom  suggestions  proceed.  These,  caught  up 
by  those  near  by  and  most  dominated  by  his  person- 
ality, are  transmitted  to  the  next  circle  with  an  added 
force.  In  this  way  the  suggestion  passes  outward 
from  zone  to  zone  of  the  crowd,  at  each  stage  gath- 

104 


MOB  MIND 

ering  volume  and  therewith  power  to  master  the  rest. 
That,  therefore,  which  started  at  the  center  as  fas- 
cination becomes  sheer  mental  intimidation  at  the 
rim.  This  symmetrical  type  of  mob  has  led  some  to 
look  in  every  case  for  the  leader  who  controls  the 
mass  by  his  personality  or  prestige.  But  the  quest 
for  a  nucleus,  while  it  makes  the  study  of  mobs  more 
mysterious  and  sensational,  certainly  does  not  make 
it  more  scientific.  Rarely  does  the  primitive  im- 
pulse proceed  from  one  man.  Usually  the  first  ori- 
entation of  minds  is  brought  about  by  some  object, 
spectacle,  or  event.  This  original  phase,  the  mo- 
ment it  is  observed  by  the  members  of  the  crowd, 
gives  rise  to  three  results :  ( i )  By  mere  contagion 
the  feeling  extends  to  others  till  there  is  complete 
unanimity;  (2)  each  feels  more  intensely  the  mo- 
ment he  perceives  that  the  rest  share  his  feeling  1(3) 
the  perceived  unison  calls  forth  a  sympathy  that 
makes  the  next  agreement  easier,  and  so  paves  the 
way  for  the  mental  unity  of  the  crowd. 

The  mob  is  thus  a  formation  that  takes  time.  In 
an  audience  falling  under  the  spell  of  an  actor  or  an 
orator,  a  congregation  developing  the  revival  spirit, 
a  crowd  becoming  riotous,  or  an  army  under  the 
influence  of  panic,  we  can  witness  the  stages  by 
v/hich  the  mob  mood  is  reached.  With  the  growing 
fascination  of  the  mass  for  the  individual,  his  con- 
sciousness contracts  to  the  pin  point  of  the  immedi- 
ate moment,  and  the  volume  of  suggestion  needed  to 
start  an  impulse  on  its  conquering  career  becomes 

105 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

less  and  less.  In  the  end,  perhaps,  any  command- 
ing person  can  assume  the  direction  of  the  mob. 

It  must  be  manifest,  however,  that  there  are  a 
hundred  cases  of  imitation  of  the  many  for  one  case 
where  the  entire  mass  throughout  obeys  a  single 
person.  In  accounting  for  the  mob,  hypnosis  has  no 
such  scope  of  application  as  the  theory  of  mental 
intimidation.  If  we  suppose  that  the  eye  of  the 
leader  or  the  gesture  of  the  orator  paralyzes  the  will 
of  the  crowd  as  the  * 'bright  object"  of  the  hypnotizer 
overcomes  his  subject,  we  shall  not  get  the  mob 
without  presence.  But  if  the  secret  of  its  unanimity 
lies  in  mass  suggestion^  why  is  presence  necessary? 
May  there  not  be  mob  phenomena  in  a  multitude  of 
people  not  collected  at  one  spot  within  sight  and 
sound  of  each  other  ? 

It  has  long  been  recognized  that  the  behavior  of 
city  populations  under  excitement  shows  the  famil- 
iar characteristics  of  the  mob,  quite  apart  from  any 
thronging.  Here  we  get  unanimity,  impulsiveness, 
exaggeration  of  feeling,  excessive  credulity,  fickle- 
ness, inability  to  reason,  and  sudden  alternations  of 
boldness  and  cowardice.  In  fact,  if  we  translate 
these  qualities  into  public  policy,  we  have  the  chief 
counts  in  th^  indictment  which  historians  have 
drawn  against  the  city  democracies  of  old  Greece 
and  mediaeval  Italy. 

These  faults  are  due  in  part  to  the  nervous  strains 
of  great  cities.  The  continual  bombardment  of  the 
attention  by  innumerable  sense  impressions  tends  to 
produce  neurasthenia  or  hysteria,  the  peculiar  mal- 

io6 


MOB  MIND 

ady  of  the  city  dweller.  Then,  too,  in  the  sheltered" 
life  of  the  city  thrive  many  mental  degenerates  that 
would  be  unsparingly  eliminated  by  the  sterner  con- 
ditions of  existence  in  the  country.  But  aside  fromj)  t> 
this  the  behavior  of  city  dwellers  under  excitement 
can  best  be  understood  as  the  result  of  mental  con- 
tacts made  possible  by  easy  communication.  While 
the  crowd,  with  its  elbow-touch  and  its  heat  has,  no 
doubt,  a  maddening  all  its  own,  the  main  thing  in  it 
is  the  contact  of  minds.  Let  this  be  given,  and  the 
three  consequences  I  have  pointed  out  must  follow. 
An  expectant  or  excited  man  learns  that  a  thousand 
of  his  fellow-townsmen  have  been  seized  by  a  certain 
strong  feeling,  and  meets  with  their  expression  of 
this  feeling.  Each  of  these  townsmen  in  turn  learns 
how  many  others  are  feeling  as  he  does.  Each  stage 
in  the  subsequent  growth  of  this  feeling  in  extent 
and  in  intensity  is  perceived,  and  so  fosters  sym- 
pathy and  a  disposition  to  go  with  the  mass.  Will 
we  not  inevitably  by  this  series  of  interactions  get 
that  "out"-look  which  characterizes  the  human  atom 
in  the  mob  ? 

The  bulletin,  the  flying  rumor,  "the  man  in  the 
street,"  and  the  easy  swarming  for  talk  or  harangue 
open  between  minds  those  paths  and  prepare  those 
contacts  that  permit  the  ambient  mass  to  press  al- 
most irresistibly  upon  the  individual.  But  why  will 
this  phenomenon  be  limited  to  the  people  huddled  on 
a  few  square  miles  of  city  ground  ?  Mental  touch  is 
not  bound  up  with  physical  proximity.  With  the 
telegraph  to  collect  and  transmit  the  expressions  and 

107 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

signs  of  the  ruling  mood,  and  the  fast  mail  to  hurry 
to  the  eager  clutch  of  waiting  thousands  the  still 
damp  sheets  of  the  morning  daily,  remote  people  are 
brought  as  it  were  into  one  another's  presence. 
Through  its  organs  the  excited  public  is  able  to 
assail  the  individual  with  a  mass  of  suggestion  al- 
most as  vivid  as  if  he  actually  stood  in  the  midst  of 
an  immense  crowd. 

Formerly,  within  a  day  a  shock  might  throw  into 
a  fever  all  within  a  hundred  miles  of  its  point  of 
origin.  The  next  day  it  might  agitate  the  zone  be- 
yond, but  meanwhile  the  first  body  of  people  would 
have  cooled  down  and  would  be  disposed  to  listen  to 
reason.  And  so,  while  a  wave  of  excitement  passed 
slowly  over  a  country,  the  entire  folk  mass  was  at  no 
moment  in  the  same  state  of  agitation. 

Now,  however,  our  space-annihilating  devices,  by 
transmitting  a  shock  without  loss  of  time,  make  it 
all  but  simultaneous.  A  vast  public  shares  the  same 
rage,  alarm,  enthusiasm,  or  horror.  Then,  as  each 
part  of  the  mass  becomes  acquainted  with  the  senti- 
ment of  all  the  rest,  the  feeling  is  generalized  and  in- 
tensified. A  rise  of  emotional  temperature  results 
which  leads  to  a  similar  reaction.  In  the  end  the 
public  swallows  up  the  individuality  of  the  ordinary 
man,  as  the  crowd  swallows  up  the  will  of  its  mem- 
bers. 

It  is  plain  that  in  matters  of  policy  this  instant 
consensus  of  feeling  or  opinion  works  for  ill  if 
it  issues  in  immediate  action.  Formerly  the  un- 
avoidable delay   in   focusing  and  ascertaining  the 

io8 


MOB  MIND 

common  will  insured  pause  and  deliberation.  Now 
the  prompt  appearance  of  a  mass  sentiment  threatens 
to  betray  us  into  taking  hot-headed  or  ill-considered 
measures.  Sudden  heats  and  flushes  take  the  place 
of  long  reflection  and  slow  resolve;  and  with  this 
comes  a  growing  impatience  with  the  checks  and 
machinery  that  prevent  the  public  from  giving  im- 
mediate effect  to  its  will.  As  the  working  of  repre- 
sentative government  thus  becomes  less  clumsy, 
there  disappears  some  of  that  wholesome  deliberate- 
ness  which  has  distinguished  indirect  from  direct 
democracy. 

Mob  mind  working  in  vast  bodies  of  dispersed  in- 
dividuals gives  us  the  craze  or  fad.  This  may  be  de- 
fined as  that  irrational  unanimity  of  interest,  feeling, 
opinion,  or  deed  in  a  body  of  communicating  indi- 
viduals, which  results  from  suggestion  and  imita- 
tion. In  the  chorus  of  execration  over  a  sensationaf 
crime,  in  the  clamor  for  the  blood  of  an  assassin  or 
dynamiter,  in  waves  of  national  feeling,  in  war 
fevers,  in  political  "landslides"  and  "tidal  wavfe," 
in  passionate  "sympathetic"  strikes,  in  cholera 
scares,  in  public  frights,  in  popular  delusions,  in 
religious  crazes,  in  ''booms"  and  panics,  in  agita- 
tions, insurrections,  and  revolutions,  we  witness 
contagion  on  a  gigantic  scale,  favored  in  some  cases 
by  popular  hysteria.  It  is  best  to  keep  the  term 
"craze"  for  an  imitative  unanimity  arrived  at  under 
great  excitement,  and  to  apply-  the  term  "fad"  to 
that  milder  form  of  imitation  which  appears  in  sud- 
den universal  interest  in  some  novelty. 

109 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

As  there  must  be  in  the  typical  mob  a  center  which 
radiates  impulses  by  fascination  till  they  have  sub- 
dued enough  people  to  continue  their  course  by 
sheer  intimidation,  so  for  the  craze  there  must  be  an 
excitant,  overcoming  so  many  people  that  these  can 
affect  the  rest  by  mere  volume  of  suggestion.  This 
first  orientation  is  produced  by-^some  event  or  inci- 
dent. The  murder  of  a  leader,  an  insult  to  an  am- 
bassador, the  sermons  of  a^  crazy  fanatic,  the  words 
of  a  "prophet"  or  "Messiah,"  a  sensational  proclama- 
tion, a  scintillating  phrase,  the  arrest  of  an  agitator, 
a  coup  d'etat,  the  advent  of  a  new  railroad,  the  col- 
lapse of  a  trusted  banking  house,  a  number  of  deaths 
by  an  epidemic,  a  series  of  mysterious  murders,  an 
inexplicable  occurrence  such  as  a  comet,  an  eclipse, 
a  star  shower,  an  earthquake,  or  a  monstrous  birth — 
each  of  these  has  been  the  starting  point  of  some 
fever,  mania,  crusade,  uprising,  boom,  panic,  de- 
lusion, or  fright.  The  more  expectant,  over- 
wrought, or  hysterical  is  the  public  mind,  the  easier 
it  fs  to  set  up  a  great  perturbation.  Even  clergymen 
noted  a  connection  between  the  "great  revival"  of 
1858  and  the  panic  of  1857.  After  a  series  of  public 
calamities,  a  train  of  startling  events,  a  pestilence, 
earthquake,  or  war,  the  anchor  of  reason  finds  no 
"holding  ground,"  and  minds  are  blown  about  by 
every  breath  of  passion  or  sentiment 

The  craze,  like  the  mob,  takes  time  to  develop.    It 

flourishes  most  among  people  like-minded  either  by 

race  or  by  culture  and  prevails  more  in  times  of 

change  than  in  epochs  of  stagnation.     The  longer  it 

no 


MOB  MIND 

works,  the  wilder  the  statements  that  are  beheved  or 
the  actions  that  are  done  and  the  stronger  the  type 
of  mind  that  falls  a  prey  to  it.  The  higher  the  craze 
mounts,  the  sharper  is  the  reaction.  The  blackest 
glooms  follow  the  rosiest  booms  and  the  acutest 
scepticism  is  found  in  the  wake  of  the  greatest  popu- 
lar delusions. 

The  fad  originates  in  the  surprise  or  interest  ex- 
cited by  novelty.  Roller-skating,  blue  glass,  the 
planchette,  a  forty  days'  fast,  the  "new  woman," 
tiddledy-winks,  faith-healing,  the  "13-14-15"  puz- 
zle, baseball,  telepathy,  or  the  sexual  novel  attract 
those  restless  folk  who  are  always  running  hither 
and  thither  after  some  new  thing.  This  creat^  a 
swirl  which  rapidly  sucks  into  its  vortex  the  soft- 
headed and  weak-minded,  and  at  last,  grown  bigger, 
involves  even  the  saner  kind.  As  no  department  of 
life  is  safe  from  the  invasion  of  novelty,  we  have  all 
kinds  of  f^de:  literary  fads  like  the  Impressionists 
or  the  Decadents ;  philosophic  fads  like  pessimism  or 
anarchism;  religious  fads  like  spiritualism  or  the- 
osophy;  hygienic  fads  like  vegetarianism,  "glam- 
ing,"  "fresh  air,"  mush  diet,  or  water  cure ;  medical 
fads  like  lymph,  tuberculin,  and  radium;  personal 
fads  like  short  hair  for  women,  pet  lizards,  face  en- 
amel, or  hypodermic  injections  of  perfurnery.  And 
of  these  orders  of  fads  each  has  a  clientele  of  its 
own. 

In  many  cases  we  can  explain  vogue  entirely  in 
terms  of  novelty  fascination  and  mob  mind.  But 
even  when  the  new  thing  is  a  step  in  progress  and 

III 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

can  make  its  way  by  sheer  merit,  it  does  not  escape 
becoming  a  fad.  It  will  have  its  penumbral  ring  of 
imitators.  So  there  is  something  of  the  fad  even  in 
bicycling,  motoring,  massage,  antisepsis,  skiagraphy, 
or  physical  culture.  Indeed,  it  is  sometimes  hard 
to  distinguish  faddism  from  the  enthusiastic  wel- 
come and  prompt  vogue  accorded  to  a  real  improve- 
ment. For  the  undiscerning  the  only  touchstone  is 
time.  Here  as  elsewhere  "persistence  in  conscious- 
ness" is  the  test  of  reality.  The  mere  novelty,  soon 
ceasing  to  be  novel,  bores  people  and  must  yield  to 
a  fresh  sensation ;  the  genuine  improvement,  on  the 
other  hand,  meets  a  real  need  and  therefore  lasts. 

Unlike  the  craze,  the  fad  does  not  spread  in  a  me- 
dium specially  prepared  for  it  by  excitement.  It  can- 
not rely  on  heightened  suggestibility.  Its  conquests, 
therefore,  imply  something  above  mere  volume  of 
suggestion.  They  imply  prestige.  The  fad  owes 
half  its  power  over  minds  to  the  prestige  that  in  this 
age  attaches  to  the  new.  Here  lies  the  secret  of 
much  that  is  puzzling. 

The  great  mass  of  men  have  always  had  their  lives 
ruled  by  usage  and  tradition.  Not  for  them  did 
novelties  chase  each  other  across  the  surface  of  so- 
ciety. The  common  folk  left  to  the  upper  ten 
thousand  the  wild  scurry  after  the  ruling  fancy  or 
folly  of  the  hour.  In  their  sports,  their  sweetheart- 
ing,  their  mating,  their  child-rearing,  their  money- 
getting,  their  notions  of  right  and  duty,  they  ran  on 
quietly  in  the  ruts  deeply  grooved  out  by  genera- 
tions of  men.     But  a  century  or  so  ago  it  was  found 

112 


MOB  MIND 

that  this  habit  of  "back'Mook  opposed  to  needed 
reforms  the  brutish  ignorance,  the  crass  stupidity, 
the  rhinoceros-hide  bigotry  of  the  unenHghtened 
masses.  Accordingly,  the  idea  of  the  humanitarian 
awakening  that  accompanied  the  French  Revolution 
was  to  lift  the  common  folk — the  third  estate — from 
the  slough  of  custom  to  the  plane  of  choice  and  self* 
direction.  And  for  a  hundred  years  the  effort  has 
been  to  explode  superstition,  to  diffuse  knowledge, 
to  spread  light,  to  free  man  from  the  spell  of  the 
past  and  turn  his  gaze  forward. 

The  attempt  has  succeeded.  The  era  of  obscu- 
rantism is  forever  past.  With  school  and  book  and 
press  progress  has  been  taught  till  with  us  the  most 
damning  phrase  is  "Behind  the  times!"  But  we 
now  see  that  a  good  deal  of  the  net  result  has  been 
to  put  one  kind  of  imitation  in  place  of  another. 
Instead  of  aping  their  forefathers,  people  now  ape 
the  many.  The  multitude  has  now  the  prestige  that 
once  clothed  the  past.  Except  where  rural  con- 
servatism holds  sway,  mob  mind  in  the  milder  forms 
of  fad  and  craze  begins  to  agitate  the  great  deeps  of 
society. 

Frequently  a  half-education  has  supplied  many 
ideas  without  developing  the  ability  to  choose  among 
them.  The  power  to  discriminate  between  ideas  in 
respect  to  their  value  lagging  far  behind  the  power 
to  receive  them,  the  individual  is  left  with  nothing 
to  do  but  follow  the  drift.  Ideas  succeed  one  an- 
other in  his  mind  not  by  trial  and  rejection,  but  in 
the  order  of  their  arrival  on  the  scene.  Formerly 
8  113 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

people  rejected  the  new  in  favor  of  wont  and  tradi- 
tion ;  now  they  tend  to  "go  in"  for  everything,  and 
atone  for  their  former  suspiciousness  by  a  touching 
creduHty.  The  world  is  a-buzz  with  half-baked, 
ecstatic  people  who  eagerly  champion  a  dozen  dif- 
ferent reforms  in  spelling,  dress,  diet,  exercise,  medi- 
cine, manners,  sex  relations,  care  of  children,  art,  in- 
dustry, education,  and  religion,  each  of  which  is  to 
bring  in  the  millenium  all  at  once. 

These  minds  that,  broken  from  the  old  moorings 
of  custom,  drift  without  helm  or  anchor  at  the 
mercy  of  wind  and  tide,  are  social  derelicts.  They 
follow  the  currents  of  opinion ;  they  can  not  create 
them.  At  all  times  ripples  chase  each  other  over  the 
surface  of  society  in  the  direction  of  improvement — 
sudden  but  all-pervading  interest  in  "how  the  other 
half  lives,"  in  the  abolition  of  war,  in  rational  dress, 
in  out-of-door  sports,  in  "a  white  life  for  two." 
Had  these  ripples  a  real  ground  swell  beneath  them, 
the  world  might  soon  be  made  over.  But,  alas !  they 
are  only  ripples.  They  wrinkle  the  surface  of  peo- 
ple's attention  for  an  instant,  but  in  a  moment  their 
fickle  minds  are  responding  to  a  new  impulse  in  a 
different  direction. 

If  this  were  to  be  the  outcome  of  the  attempt  to 
emancipate  the  common  man  and  fit  him  to  be  helms- 
man of  society,  we  might  well  despair.  Certainly 
the  staid,  slow-going  man  of  olden  times,  plodding 
along  the  narrow  but  beaten  path  of  usage,  is  as  dig- 
nified a  figure  as  the  unsteady  modern  person  whose 
ideas  and  preferences  flicker  constantly  in  the  cur* 

114 


MOB  MIND 

rents  of  momentary  popular  feeling.  The  lanes  of 
custom  are  narrow;  the  hedgerows  are  high,  and 
view  to  right  or  left  there  is  none.  But  there  are  as 
much  freedom  and  self-direction  in  him  who  trudges 
along  this  lane  as  in  the  "emancipated"  man  who 
finds  himself  on  an  open  plain,  free  to  go  in  any  di- 
rection, but  nevertheless  stampedes  aimlessly  with 
the  herd. 

Not  that  the  hedge-rows  of  custom  are  to  be  re- 
planted. The  remedy  for  mob  mind  is  to  push  on  to 
greater  individualization,  not  to  fall  back  on  author- 
ity. The  past  is  discredited  ;  then  discredit  the  mass. 
The  spell  of  ancestors  is  broken ;  let  us  next  break 
the  spell  of  numbers.  The  frantic  desire  of  fright- 
ened deer  or  buffalo  to  press  to  the  very  center  of  the 
herd  does  not  befit  civilized  men.  The  huddling  in- 
stinct has  no  place  in  strong  character.  In  a  good 
democracy  blind  imitation  can  never  take  the  place 
of  individual  effort  to  weigh  and  judge.  The  ideal 
is  a  society  of  men  with  neither  the  "back"-look  on 
the  past  nor  yet  the  "out"-look  on  their  fellows,  but 
with  the  "in'Mook  upon  reason  and  conscience. 


lis 


VI 


THE  PROPERTIES  OF  GROUP-UNITS* 

In  his  Study  of  Sociology"^  Spencer  shows  that, 
just  as  the  form  of  a  pile  of  bricks  or  cannon  balls  is 
conditioned  by  the  form  of  the  bricks  or  balls  them- 
selves, and  the  form  of  crystallization  is  characteris- 
tic for  each  kind  of  molecule,  so  the  properties  of  a 
social  aggregate  are  derived  from  and  determined 
by  the  properties  of  its  members.  We  should  there- 
fore expect  that,  other  things  being  equal,  the  di- 
versity of  any  two  societies  would  correspond  to  the 
diversity  in  character  of  the  peoples  composing 
them. 

In  his  Principles  of  Sociology^  Spencer  is  more 
cautious.  After  stating  that  the  primary  factors  in 
social  phenomena  are  the  characters  of  the  units  and 
the  nature  of  the  physical  environment  (for  all 
minor  groupings  within  a  population  this  factor,  be- 
ing common  to  all,  may  be  ignored),  he  goes  on  to 
enumerate  certain  derived  factors,  one  of  these  being 
the  reciprocal  influence  of  the  society  and  its  units : 

As  soon  as  a  combination  of  men  acquires  permanence, 
there  begin  actions  and  reactions  between  the  community 

*  Vide    The    American    Journal    of    Sociology,    November, 
1903. 
'  Ch.  III. 
■Vol.  I,  §  10. 

116 


THE  PROPERTIES  OF  GROUP-UNITS 

and  each  member  of  it,  such  that  either  affects  the  other  in 
nature.  The  control  exercised  by  the  aggregate  over  its 
units  tends  ever  to  mould  their  activities  and  sentiments  and 
ideas  into  congruity  with  social  requirements;  and  these 
activities,  sentiments  and  ideas,  in  so  far  as  they  are  changed 
by  changing  circumstances,  tend  to  re-mould  the  society  into 
congruity  with  themselves. 

The  principle  that  seemed  so  self-evident  to  Spen- 
cer has  not  passed  without  challenge.  De  Greef 
protests  against  the  proposition  that  the  character 
of  an  aggregate  is  determined  by  the  essential  char- 
acters of  its  constituent  units,  on  the  ground  that  it 
gives  up  the  existence  of  a  distinct  social  science. 
He  says : 

If  the  social  aggregates  are  only  the  larger  and  more 
complex  image  of  the  units  that  compose  them,  if  social 
science  is  concerned  only  with  the  morphological  or  func- 
tional relations  between  the  series  of  units  and  the  resulting 
aggregates,  it  evidently  follows  that,  although  there  are 
social  phenomena,  these  are  not  markedly  distinct  from  bio- 
logical or  psj'chological  phenomena,^ 

Gumplowicz,  unlike  Spencer,  begins  with  groups, 
not  with  individuals.  Human  aggregates  are  the 
true  social  elements,  and  they  are  sufficiently  simple 
and  uniform  in' their  behavior  to  allow  social  laws  to 
be  formulated.  In  its  interaction  with  other  groups 
each  group  is  a  perfect  unit.  It  acts  solely  in  its 
own  interest  and  knows  no  standard  of  conduct  but 
success.  Plowever  the  individual  may  blunder,  the  ^ 
group  never  errs  in  seizing  and  applying  the. right  j^ 
means  to  gain  its  end. 

Gumplowicz  declares  that  the  individual  is  to  be 

*  "Introduction  a  la  sociologie,"  Premiere  partie,  p.  19. 
117 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

understood  through  his  social  group,  instead  of  the 
group  through  its  component  individuals.  The  great 
error  of  individualistic  psychology  is  the  assumption 
that  man  thinks.  The  truth  is,  it  is  not  the  man  that 
thinks,  but  the  community.  The  source  of  his 
thoughts  is  the  social  medium  in  which  he  lives,  the 
social  atmosphere  he  has  breathed  from  childhood. 
The  individual  unconsciously  takes  his  qualities  from 
his  group,  and  the  qualities  of  his  group  are  deter- 
mined by  the  nature  of  its  dominant  interests,  the 
conditions  of  its  life,  and  its  situation  with  respect 
to  other  groups.^ 

It  is  clear  that  this  theory  of  the  relation  between 
the  aggregate  and  its  units  is  not  intended  to  apply 
to  voluntary  or  ephemeral  unions,  but  only  to  those 
great  permanent  groups — horde,  tribe,  community, 
social  class — into  which  we  are  born  and  from  which 
we  rarely  escape. 

Simmel  holds  that  the  character  of  a  group-unit 
does  not  correspond  either  intellectually  or  morally 
to  that  of  its  average  member,  but  as  social  develop- 
ment proceeds,  falls  more  and  more  below  it.  He 
points  out^  that  the  differentiation  and  specialization 
that  take  place  in  the  social  mass  make  it  difficult 
for  people  to  recover  a  common  plane  of  thinking 
and  feeling  when  some  occasion  arises  for  joint  ac- 
tion. This  plane,  if  it  does  actually  get  established, 
is  sure  to  be  low,  because  those  who  are  mentally  be- 
neath this  plane  cannot  possibly  rise  to  it,  whereas 

^  "Outlines  of  Sociology,"  Part  IV. 

'"Ueber  soziale  Differenzierung,"  pp.  79,  85-87. 

118 


THE  PROPERTIES  OF  GROUP-UNITS 

those  who  are  above  it  in  intelligence  or  ideals  can 
stoop  and  reenter  it.  In  a  differentiated  population, 
therefore,  all  common  thought  or  feeling  or  purpose 
will  be,  not  simply  mediocre,  but  positively  crude, 
because  only  in  the  simplest  mental  life  is  it  possible 
to  find  a  plane  that  can  include  everybody. 

From  their  study  of  crowds  Sighele,^  Tarde,^  and 
Le  Bon^  conclude  that,  contrary  to  Spencer's  hy- 
pothesis, the  group-unit  does  not  faithfully  reflect 
the  characteristics  of  its  members.  The  whole  is  not 
the  algebraic  sum  of  its  parts.  It  is  not  a  resultant 
of  its  units,  according  to  the  "law  of  the  parallelo- 
gram of  forces,"  but  is  a  chemical  combination  pos- 
sessing properties  different  from  those  of  its  ele- 
ments. For  this  reason  crowds  are  more  alike  than 
are  their  members.  A  mob  of  sages  and  a  mob  of 
hoodlums  will  think  and  behave  in  about  the  same 
way.  The  reason  is  that  in  the  crowd  men  lose  their 
acquired  traits  and  revert  to  their  instincts.  Re- 
nouncing the  individualities  they  have  built  up  by 
reflection  and  education,  they  meet  on  that  substra- 
tum of  unconscious  life  which  is  common  to  all  of 
them.  Tarde  points  out  that  the  character  of  a 
homogeneous  crowd  is  that  of  its  members,  only  in- 
tensified, but  a  heterogeneous  crowd  gives  us,  not  a 
product^  but  a  combination,  of  individual  qualities. 
He  also  insists — and  this  is  the  key  to  the  mystery — 
that  there  are  various  modes  of  association,  and  that 

*  "La  f  oule  criminelle." 
'"L'opinion  et  la  foule." 
«"The  Crowd." 

119 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

with  the  same  membership  these  may  yield  very  dif- 
ferent results. 

Let  us  now  pass  in  review  the  chief  types  of  as- 
sociation, see  to  what  extent  and  why  the  properties 
of  the  resulting  group-units  cannot  be  explained  on 
Spencer's  principle,  and  formulate  such  additional 
principles  as  shall  be  found  necessary. 

The  current  account  of  what  takes  place  in  the 
crowd  is  very  lame,  and  the  matter  is  in  need  of  a 
fresh  analysis.  The  discovery  that  people  are  sug- 
gestible, and  are  more  than  ordinarily  suggestible 
when  assembled,  does  not  of  itself  explain  the  be- 
havior of  crowds  nor  refute  Spencer's  principle  of 
average.  It  leaves  us  just  where  we  were.  It  is 
true  that  the  more  plastic  the  minds  of  men,  the 
surer  they  are  to  reach  a  common  plane  of  feeling 
or  purpose.  But  will  this  plane  lie  near  the  top  or 
near  the  bottom  or  in  the  middle  zone  of  the  mass  ? 
The  greater  the  susceptibility  to  contagion,  the 
sooner  a  unity  will  appear.  But  will  this  group- 
unit  be  wiser  or  sillier,  nobler  or  baser,  than  the 
average  of  its  component  individuals  ? 

Some  light  is  thrown  on  the  problem  by  consider- 
ing if  the  suggestibility  of  all  those  who  form  the 
crowd  is  heightened  in  an  equal  degree  by  the  influ- 
ence of  propinquity.  If  it  is,  then  the  aggregate 
will  still  reflect  the  prevailing  character  of  its  units. 

But  such  is  not  the  case.  There  are  at  least  two 
descriptions  of  people  who  in  the  give-and-take  of 
the  throng  are  more  likely  to  impose  suggestions 

120 


THE  PROPERTIES  OF  GROUP-UNITS 

than  to  accept  them.  The  intelligent  are  able  to 
criticise  and  appraise  the  suggestions  that  impinge 
upon  them.  They  are  quick  to  react  if  a  suggestion 
clashes  with  their  interests  or  their  convictions, 
whereas  the  ignorant  are  at  the  mercy  of  the  leader 
or  the  claque,  and  may  be  stampeded  into  a  course 
of  action  quite  at  variance  with  their  real  desires. 
The  fanatical  and  impassioned  are  little  responsive 
to  impressions  from  without  because  of  their  inner 
tension.  Being  determined  from  within,  they,  emit 
powerful  suggestions,  but  are  hard  to  influence. 
There  is  thus  a  tendency  for  the  warped  and  the  in- 
flamed members  of  a  crowd  to  impart  their  passion 
to  the  rest  and  to  sweep  along  with  them  the  neutral 
and  indifferent.  This  is  why,  as  the  crowd  comes 
under  the  hypnotic  spell  of  numbers,  the  extremists 
gain  the  upper  hand  of  the  moderates. 

It  is  owing  to  reciprocal  suggestion  that  associa- 
tion in  a  crowd  renders  every  psychic  manifestation 
more  intense.  Masked  by  anonymity,  people  dare 
to  give  their  feelings  exaggerated  expression.  To 
be  heard  one  does  not  speak;  one  shouts.  To  be 
seen  one  does  not  simply  show  one's  self;  one  ges- 
ticulates. Boisterous  laughter,  frenzied  objurga- 
tions, frantic  cheers,  are  needed  to  express  the  mer- 
riment or  wrath  or  enthusiasm  of  the  crowd. 
These  exaggerated  signs  of  emotion  cannot  but 
produce  in  suggestible  beholders  exaggerated 
states  of  mind.  Insensibly  the  mental  temperature 
rises  so  that  what  once  seemed  hot  now  seems  luke- 
warm, what  once  felt  tepid  now  seems  cold.     The 

121 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

intensifying  of  the  feelings  in  consequence  of  re- 
ciprocal suggestion  will  be  most  rapid  when  the 
crowd  forms  under  agitating  circumstances.  In 
this  case  the  impulse  to  the  unbridled  manifestation 
of  feeling  is  rife  from  the  first,  and  the  psychic  fer- 
mentation proceeds  at  an  uncommon  rate. 

Granting  that  association  widens  the  amplitude 
of  feeling  what  does  this  imply  as  to  the  moral  char- 
acter of  the  crowd  ?  Will  it  be  higher  or  lower  than 
that  of  its  members?  The  earlier  writers  on  the 
crowd  regarded  it  as  necessarily  criminal  in  its  ten- 
dencies, but  of  late  it  has  come  to  be  recognized  that 
the  crowd  is  capable  of  opposite  extremes — of  sav- 
age criminality  on  the  one  hand,  of  sublime  heroism 
on  the  other;  of  cowardly  panic,  but  also  of  des- 
perate courage.  Now,  there  are  moral  emotions 
as  well  as  immoral  ones.  Since  feelings  are  intensi- 
fied by  numbers,  it  may  plausibly  be  argued  that 
generosity  and  courage  are  just  as  likely  to  be  ex- 
alted as  wrath  and  greed.  Making  due  allowance, 
of  course,  for  the  influence  of  the  occasion  or  the 
leader,  the  moral  quality  of  the  crowd  will  be  an  ex- 
aggerated reflection  of  the  dominant  moral  char- 
acteristics of  its  members. 

This  reasoning,  however,  ignores  an  important 
distinction  between  the  springs  of  virtue  and  the 
springs  of  vice.  Some  of  the  motives  to  right  con- 
duct are,  indeed,  purely  emotional.  Such  are  sym- 
pathy, love,  generosity,  and  courage.  But  in  most 
cases  the  spring  of  virtue  has  in  it  an  intellectual 
element.     On  the  whole,  right  conduct  is  thought- 


THE  PROPERTIES  OF  GROUP-UNITS 

out  conduct.  Second  thoughts  make  for  righteous- 
ness. The  upright  man  is  "considerate" ;  he  is  ani- 
mated, not  by  spurts  of  good  impulse,  but  by  the 
sense  of  justice,  respect  for  a  principle,  devotion  to 
an  ideal;  his  good  conduct  is  an  outcome  of  his 
thinking,  of  his  ''conscience."  On  the  other  hand, 
the  springs  of  utter  wickedness  are  for  the  most 
part  not  pondered  malevolence,  but  simple  primal 
passions,  such  as  blood-thirst,  love  of  destruction, 
lust,  anger,  envy,  jealousy,  and  greed.  Now,  feel- 
ing is  much  richer  in  means  of  prompt  vivid  expres- 
sion than  thought,  and  in  a  throng  each  is  more  im- 
pressed by  the  looks,  cries,  gestures,  and  attitudes 
that  express  his  neighbor's  feelings  than  by  the 
words  that  convey  his  neighbor's  ideas.  Emotion 
here  pulls  the  longer  oar.  Thronging,  moreover, 
usually  occurs  under  perturbing  conditions  which 
tend  to  paralyze  thought.  In  the  crowd,  therefore, 
the  reason  is  so  beclouded  that  the  motives  to  vir- 
tue, so  far  as  they  are  a  function  of  one's  thinking, 
can  by  no  means  compete  with  the  motives  to  evil. 
Such  virtues  as  are  bound  up  with  self-control — 
law-abidingness,  veracity,  prudence,  thrift,  respect 
for  others'  rights — if  they  survive  in  the  crowd,  will 
do  so  by  sheer  force  of  habit. 

Turning  next  to  the  intellectual  traits  of  the 
crowd,  we  note  first  of  all  that  it  is  more  dogmatic 
and  intolerant  than  its  component  individuals.  This 
trait  should  not  be  ascribed  to  the  sense  of  invinci- 
bility that  is  inspired  by  numbers  for  the  explana- 
tion is  simpler.     Although  an  idea  is  totally  differ- 

123 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ent  from  a  feeling,  we  may  have  feelings  about 
ideas.  Belief  is  a  form  of  emotion.  We  speak  of 
"energy  of  conviction."  We  speak  of  persons  as 
"warm,"  "luke-warm,"  or  "cold"  in  their  faith. 
Faith  is  rightly  thought  of  as  a  force  able  to  "move 
mountains."  Now,  conviction,  like  all  other  emo- 
tions, reaches  its  highest  pitch  in  the  crowd,  and  so 
crowds  tend  to  be  intolerant.  People  united  by  iden- 
tity of  belief  are,  of  course,  more  impatient  of  con- 
tradiction than  people  united  by  identity  of  passion 
or  aim.  Hence  the  paradox  that  throngs  of  gentle, 
pious  persons — pilgrims,  monks,  nuns,  devotees — 
become  the  most  ferocious  in  the  presence  of 
counter-manifestants.  Every  crowd  is  formidable 
on  the  point  it  cares  most  for,  and  in  the  ages  of 
faith  it  is  as  natural  that  mobs  should  riot  over  the 
nature  of  the  Trinity  as  it  is  that  in  our  age  there 
should  be  tumults  over  Wagner's  operas  or  the  dif- 
ference of  a  cent  an  hour  in  the  pay  of  workingmen. 

What,  now,  as  to  the  wisdom  of  the  crowd? 
Will  it  be  an  average  of  individual  wisdoms  or  will 
it  be  something  else  ? 

Ideas  do  not  reinforce  one  another  as  feelings  do. 
This  is  because  ideas  differ,  not  in  degree,  but  in 
kind.  If  from  the  countenances  and  gestures  of 
those  about  him  a  man  perceives  that  all  are  moved 
as  he  is,  his  feeling  becomes  more  intense.  But  if 
he  observes  that  others  entertain  the  same  idea,  his 
idea  does  not  thereby  become  clearer  to  him.  He 
simply  believes  in  it  more  intensely,  this  belief  being 
itself  a  mode  of  feeling.      In  the  crowd   Peter's 

124 


THE  PROPERTIES  OF  GROUP-UNITS 

wrath  or  courage  reinforces  Paul's  and  vice  versa. 
But  Peter's  idea  does  not  reinforce  Paul's  idea  so 
as  to  produce  an  idea  superior  to  either.  Impulses 
are  accumulable,  but  not  thoughts.  A  crowd  can 
be  more  sagacious  than  its  members  only  in  case 
people  think  better  in  a  crowd,  or  in  case  the  ideas 
of  the  wiser  supplant  the  ideas  of  the  foolish. 

Do  people  think  better  when  packed  together  and 
tingling  with  the  herd-thrill?  No  doubt  it  is  fric- 
tion that  produces  sparks.  Many  a  mind  is  most 
clairvoyant  and  fertile  in  the  presence  of  others. 
Great  orators  have  confessed  that  their  best  think- 
ing was  done  in  the  presence  of  the  multitude,  real 
or  imagined.  Nevertheless,  it  is  generally  true 
that  strong  emotion  inhibits  the  intellectual  pro- 
cesses. In  a  sudden  crisis  we  expect  the  sane  act 
from  the  man  who  is  "cool,"  who  has  not  "lost  his 
head."  Now,  the  very  hurly-burly  of  the  crowd 
tends  to  distraction.  The  excitement  that  brings 
people  together  hinders  consecutive  thinking.  Fi- 
nally, the  high  pitch  of  feeling  to  which  the  crowd  is 
gradually  wrought  up  paralyzes  the  thought  pro- 
cesses and  results  in  a  temporary  imbecility.  It  is 
therefore  safe  to  conclude  that,  taken  herdwise, 
people  are  less  sensible  and  less  original  than  they 
are,  dispersed.  Fruitful  thinking  is  not  done  in  the 
crowd.  Ideas  or  ideals  germinate  only  in  self-pos- 
session and  quiet.  It  is  in  the  desert,  in  the  field, 
in  the  cell,  in  the  study,  that  great  new  truths  are 
cradled. 

Consider  now  the  other  possibility.     If  ideas  are 

135 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

not  accumulable,  may  they  not,  at  least,  be  substi- 
tutive, so  that  in  an  assemblage  the  best  thought, 
the  soundest  opinion,  the  shrewdest  plan,  that  comes 
from  any  quarter  will  prevail.  A  beneficent  selec- 
tion does,  indeed,  take  place  in  every  deliberative 
body.  Where  there  is  cool  discussion  and  leisurely 
reflection,  ideas  contend  and  the  fittest  are  accepted 
by  all.  In  the  fugitive,  structureless  gathering, 
however,  there  can  be  no  fruitful  debate.  If  it  hap- 
pens to  have  a  wise  leader  who  can  keep  his  head, 
the  crowd  may  act  sagaciously.  Under  his  stimu- 
lus its  commonness  may  be  transfigured  into  broad 
and  profound  ideas.  But  there  is  no  guarantee 
that  the  master  of  the  crowd  shall  be  wiser  than  his 
followers.  The  man  of  biggest  voice  or  wildest 
language,  the  aggressive  person  who  first  leaps 
upon  a  table,  raises  aloft  a  symbol,  or  utters  a  catch- 
ing phrase,  is  likely  to  become  the  bell-wether. 

It  is  safe  to  conclude  that  amorphous,  heteroge- 
neous assemblages  are  morally  and  intellectually  be- 
low the  average  of  their  members.  This  manner  of 
coming  together  spells  deterioration.  The  crowd 
may  generate  moral  fervor,  but  it  never  sheds  light. 
If  at  times  it  has  furthered  progress,  it  is  because 
the  mob,  with  its  immense  physical  and  emotional 
force,  serves  as  an  ice-breaker  to  open  a  channel  for 
pent-up  humanity,  as  a  battering  ram  to  raze  some 
mouldering,  bat-infested  institution  and  clear  the 
ground  for  something  better.  This  better  will  be 
the  creation  of  gifted  individuals,  of  deliberative 
bodies,  never  of  anonymous  crowds.  It  is  easier 
126 


THE  PROPERTIES  OF  GROUP-UNITS 

for  masses  to  agree  on  a  Nay  than  on  a  Yea.  This 
is  why  crowds  have  destroyed  despotisms,  but  have 
never  built  free  states,  have  abolished  evils,  but 
have  never  instituted  works  of  beneficence.  Essen- 
tially atavistic  and  sterile,  the  crowd  ranks  as  the 
lowest  of  the  forms  of  human  association. 

Yet  there  are  times  when  crowds  socialize  men 
and  fit  them  for  better  modes  of  association.  Upon 
the  sudden  collapse  of  a  worm-eaten  social  frame- 
work in  which  people  have  felt  themselves  impris- 
oned there  comes  a  moment  of  deliquescence,  of 
atomism.  Now,  the  crowd  which  at  such  crises 
comes  forward  as  the  chief  means  of  collective  ac- 
tion may  by  the  very  unisons  and  sympathies  it  in- 
spires aid  in  re-socialization,  and  so  pave  the  way 
to  a  higher  social  life.  Overruling  with  its  mighty 
diapason  the  old  dissonances  of  rank,  birth,  occupa- 
tion, and  locality,  it  helps  form  "the  people."  The 
national  spirit  of  France  did  not  spring  into  life  fuU- 
statured  at  the  fall  of  the  Bastille.  It  grew  up  grad- 
ually out  of  great  common  experiences  in  mobs,  ris- 
ings at  the  sound  of  the  tocsin,  levees  en  masse,  po- 
litical gatherings,  and  vast  concourses  at  civic  festi- 
vals. Likewise  the  American  national  spirit  seems 
to  have  had  its  birth  in  the  numerous  tumultuous 
gatherings  that  near  the  beginning  of  our  Revolution 
mobbed  the  officials  and  persecuted  the  friends  of 
George  III.  Perhaps  even  the  unexpected  unity  of 
southern  feeling  in  1861  was  prepared  in  the  crowds 
that  wildly  cheered  the  secession  speeches  of  Yancey 
and  Toombs  during  their  years  of  agitation. 

127 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

From  the  clear  inferiority  of  crowds  some  draw  a 
very  unfavorable  opinion  of  human  groupings.  To 
the  maxim,  "In  union  there  is  strength,"  they  would 
add,  "In  union  there  is  deterioration."  By  insist- 
ing that  all  associations  possess  less  wit  and  con- 
science than  their  members,  they  virtually  impeach 
social  evolution,  which  implies,  for  one  thing,  a  de- 
velopment of  group-units  in  variety,  extent,  and 
complexity.  Since  in  the  very  heart  of  social  life 
lies  coiled  the  worm  of  decay,  there  seems  to  be  no 
hope  for  the  triumph  of  wisdom  short  of  the  rule  of 
the  strong  man,  the  Uebermensch  of  Nietzsche. 
But  sociology  of  this  sort  is  sadly  out  of  focus.  The 
crowd  is  only  one  extreme  of  a  long  gamut  of  forms 
that  stretches  through  the  mass-meeting,  the  assem- 
bly, the  representative  body,  the  public,  and  the  sect, 
up  to  the  corporation.  At  the  upper  end  of  the 
series  the  group-unit  shows  traits  precisely  opposite 
to  those  of  the  crowd.  In  fact,  each  form  of  human 
association  has  its  own  characteristics  and  needs  to 
be  studied  independently. 

The  first  improvement  on  the  crowd  is  the  mass- 
meeting —  an  assemblage  heterogeneous,  but  not 
wholly  formless.  The  mass-meeting  has  a  platform 
and  a  chairman,  listens  to  regular  speeches,  and  pre- 
serves a  semblance  of  order.  Responsible,  persons, 
recognized  by  the  chair,  speak  to  resolutions  usually 
drafted  in  advance,  and  the  will  of  the  whole  is 
ascertained  by  a  formal  vote.  The  mass-meeting  is 
therefore  likely  to  show  more  self-restraint  and  ra- 
tionality than  the  crowd. 

128 


THE  PROPERTIES  OF  GROUP-UNITS 

The  next  stage  is  the  deliberative  assembly — the 
purposeful  gathering  of  a  particular  description  of 
persons,  say  the  workmen  of  a  trade,  the  stock- 
holders of  a  company,  or  the  householders  of  a 
ward.  The  fact  of  homogeneity  marks  it  out  as 
a  higher  form.  A  body  of  persons  cannot  possess 
group-traits  unless  they  converge  upon  certain  emo- 
tions which  all  may  feel,  certain  ideas  which  all  can 
grasp.  Now,  in  a  heterogeneous  mass  there  is  no 
common  ground  save  the  elemental,  the  primitive. 
Persons  of  all  sorts  and  conditions  cannot  be  brought 
to  vibrate  in  unison  unless  there  is  an  appeal  to  the 
crudest  of  impulses,  the  simplest  of  ideas.  In  a 
homogeneous  assemblage,  on  the  other  hand,  a  basis 
of  sympathy  is  already  provided  in  the  common  ex- 
perience or  characteristic,  and  it  is  not  necessary  to 
descend  so  far  in  order  to  find  a  meeting-point  for 
minds. 

In  the  deliberative  assembly  there  is  a  kind  of 
natural  leadership  depending  on  the  nature  of  the 
interest  that  has  brought  people  together.  Investors 
expect  the  men  of  millions  to  speak  first  and  often- 
est.  The  church-meeting  looks  to  the  "elders  in 
Israel"  to  point  the  way.  Workingmen  defer  to  the 
time-tested  trades-unionist.  The  primary  or  caucus 
expects  some  ''old  war-horse"  to  give  the  cue.  Peo- 
ple meet  with  a  scale  of  worthies  in  mind,  and  the 
guidance  of  their  deliberations  drifts  spontaneously 
into  experienced  hands.  Most  of  the  ancient  popu- 
lar assemblies  listened  only  to  chiefs  and  dignitaries. 
The  undistinguished  had  the  right  to  express  assent 
9  129 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

or  dissent,  but  not  the  right  to  be  heard.  If  a 
Thersites  ventured  to  speak  up,  he  was  Hkely  to 
suffer  for  it. 

It  is  hard  to  get  a  great  company  to  deliberate,  be- 
cause in  the  throng  it  takes  so  little  to  make  the  heart 
overflow  and  put  out  the  light  in  the  brain.  The  big 
assembly  skirts  ever  the  slippery  incline  that  leads 
down  to  the  abyss,  and  all  manner  of  guard-rails  in 
the  form  of  prescribed  modes  of  procedure  are  nec- 
essary in  order  to  save  it  from  a  mis-step.  A  well- 
known  chairman  described  the  body  he  presided  over 
as  a  wild  beast  he  could  feel  tugging  and  springing 
against  the  leash.  Now,  this  leash  is  the  code  of 
parliamentary  law.  This  venerable  body  of  usage 
anciently  wrought  out  in  the  House  of  Commons  is  a 
miracle  of  applied  psychology,  and  counts  not  the 
least  among  England's  contributions  to  the  world. 
Mirabeau  did  well  to  translate  for  the  French  Con- 
stituent Assembly  Romilly's  little  book  on  parlia- 
mentary procedure,  and  it  was  an  evil  hour  when  the 
Assembly  rejected  it  as  "too  English." 

The  Rules  of  Order  constitute  a  strait- jacket  put 
on  a  giant  liable  to  convulsive  seizures.  The  rules 
requiring  that  a  meeting  shall  have  a  chairman,  that 
the  chairman  shall  not  take  part  in  debate,  that  no 
one  shall  speak  without  recognition,  that  the  speaker 
shall  address  the  chair  and  not  the  assembly,  that 
remarks  shall  pertain  to  a  pending  motion,  that  per- 
sonalities shall  be  taboo,  and  that  members  shall  not 
be  referred  to  by  name — what  are  they  but  so  many 
devices  to  keep  the  honey-tongued  or  brazen- 
130 


THE  PROPERTIES  OF  GROUP-UNITS 

throated  crowd-leader  from  springing  to  the  center 
of  the  stage  and  weaving  his  baleful  spells !  The 
rules  that  the  hearers  be  in  order,  that  they  remain 
seated,  that  they  forbear  to  interrupt,  that  they  pa- 
tiently listen  to  all  speakers  regularly  recognized, 
and  that  their  signs  of  approval  or  disapproval  be 
decorous — are  not  these  so  many  guard-rails  that 
help  the  assembly  get  safely  by  certain  vertiginous 
moments  ? 

The  highest  association  of  presence  is  seen  in  the  \ 
representative  body,  exemplified  by  legislatures, 
party  conventions,  church  councils,  trade  parlia- 
ments, and  congresses  composed  of  delegates  from 
various  sections,  professions,  or  interests.  Being 
answerable  to  their  constituents,  its  members  are  not 
likely  to  be  swept  off  their  feet  by  gusts  of  feeling. 
The  dumb-bell  form  of  many  of  these  bodies  works 
to  the  same  effect.  Polarized  into  majority  and  mi- 
nority parties,  a  legislature  rarely  degenerates  into 
a  mob,  because  an  engulfing  vortex  of  agreement  is 
almost  impossible.  So  long  as  domestic  affairs  are 
up,  a  wave  of  contagion  is  shattered  by  the  party  line. 
It  is  in  dealing  with  external  policy  that  a  legislature 
unified  for  the  nonce  by  a  common  pride  or  wrath  is 
likely  to  show  mob  characteristics. 

"The  Roman  Assembly,"  says  Freeman,  "died  of 
the  disease  of  which  every  primary  assembly  in  a 
large  country  must  die.  It  became  too  large  for  its 
functions ;  it  became  a  mob  incapable  of  debate,  and 
in  which  the  worst  elements  got  the  upper  hand." 
Now,  the  representative  body  through  its  power  to 

131 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

fix  the  basis  of  representation  is  able  to  control  its 
size,  and  thus  remove  one  source  of  danger.  Recog- 
nizing that  numbers  breed  confusion,  that  the  ora- 
tory addressed  to  a  large  assemblage  is  apt  to  be 
exaggerated  in  matter  and  manner,  and  that  the 
demonstrations  arising  from  a  great  body  are  likely 
to  upset  the  judgment,  most  legislatures  wisely  re- 
strict their  number  to  four  or  five  hundred.  It  is  a 
pity  the  lesson  was  learned  so  late.  The  earlief 
parliaments  were  too  big,  and  so  brought  discredit 
on  the  beginnings  of  popular  government.  In 
France  and  elsewhere  the  representatives  of  the  peo- 
ple showed  imbecility,  no  doubt,  but  their  aristocratic 
and  clerical  critics  would  have  acquitted  themselves 
no  better  had  they  undertaken  to  deliberate  in  equally 
large  bodies.  One  has  but  to  recall  the  turbulence 
of  those  great  meetings  of  the  whole  Polish  nobility 
to  choose  the  Polish  king. 

Another  means  of  giving  wisdom  the  weather- 
gage  in  the  battle  with  folly  is  to  require  adjourn- 
ment and  an  interval  of  private  reflection  before 
action  is  taken.  By  forbidding  a  measure  to  be 
voted  on  at  the  sitting  in  which  it  is  proposed,  by  for- 
bidding it  to  be  discussed  on  the  day  of  voting,  by  re- 
quiring it  to  be  read  at  two  sittings  before  voting,  by 
requiring  that  the  more  serious  measures  be  consid- 
ered in  the  committee  of  the  whole  house,  it  is  sought 
to  break  any  spell  that  the  orator  may  weave  about 
his  hearers,  and  to  evoke  as  the  foundation  of  the 
collective  judgment  the  best  individual  judgment  of 
the  members. 

132 


THE  PROPERTIES  OF  GROUP-UNITS 

There  are  two  kinds  of  associations — with  pres- 
ence and  without  presence.  Crowd,  mass-meeting, 
assembly,  parliament,  constitute  a  series  of  associa- 
tions with  presence  ranging  from  the  amorphous  to 
the  highly  organized.  To  this  the  scale  of  associa- 
tions without  presence — public,  sect,  corporation — 
runs  nearly  parallel.  In  many  points  the  public 
matches  the  crowd,  the  sect  corresponds  to  the  as- 
sembly, and  the  corporation  is  twin  to  the  represen- 
tative body. 

The  public  is  the  dispersed  crowd,  a  body  of  heter- 
ogeneous persons  who,  although  separated,  are  so 
in  touch  with  one  another  that  they  not  only  respond 
to  a  stimulus  at  almost  the  same  moment,  but  are 
aware  each  of  the  other's  response.  Much  depends 
on  how  soon  after  receiving  an  impression  one  learns 
how  others  have  been  affected.  In  the  crowd  cheers 
and  hisses  fall  upon  the  ear  while  yet  the  speaker's 
words  are  ringing.  The  member  of  a  public 
brought  into  touch  by  the  daily  press  cannot  learn 
how  others  respond  until  hours  have  elapsed.  In 
the  meantime,  perhaps,  he  has  reflected  and  got  his 
bearings.  This  want  of  simultaneity  is  not,  how- 
ever, the  only  thing  that  differentiates  the  public 
from  the  crowd.  If  by  the  aid  of  a  telephonic  news 
service  people  were  brought  into  immediate  touch, 
there  would  still  be  lacking  certain  important  condi- 
tions of  the  mob-state.  The  hurly-burly,  the  press 
and  heave  of  the  crowd,  are  avoided  when  contact 
is  purely  spiritual.  We  have  seen  that  in  a  throng 
the  means  of  expressing  feeling  are  much  more  copi- 

133 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ous  and  effective  than  the  facilities  for  expressing 
thought.  In  a  dispersed  group  feeling  enjoys  no 
such  advantage.  Both  are  confined  to  the  same  ve- 
hicle— the  printed  word — and  so  ideas  and  opinions 
run  as  rapidly  through  the  public  as  emotions ;  per- 
haps more  rapidly,  for  is  it  not  easier  for  a  writer  to 
be  clear  than  to  be  forceful? 

One  is  member  of  but  one  crowd  at  a  time,  but  by 
taking  a  number  of  newspapers  one  can  belong  to 
several  publics  with,  perhaps,  different  planes  of 
vibration.  So  far  as  these  various  unanimities  cross 
and  neutralize  one  another,  the  vortical  suction  of 
the  public  will  be  weakened.  The  crowd  may  be 
rushed  head-long  into  folly  or  crime  by  irresponsible 
or  accidental  leaders.  The  public,  on  the  other 
hand,  can  receive  suggestions  only  through  the  col- 
umns of  its  journal.  The  editor  is  like  the  chair- 
man of  a  mass-meeting,  for  no  one  can  be  heard 
without  his  recognition.  Since  he  is  a  man  of  some 
consequence,  with  a  reputation  to  make  or  mar,  the 
guidance  he  gives  his  readers  will  be  on  a  level  with 
that  guidance  which  the  experienced  orator  supplies 
to  the  crowd. 

For  all  these  reasons  the  psychology  of  the  public, 
though  similar  to  that  of  the  crowd,  is  more  normal. 
The  public  suffers  from  the  same  vices  and  follies 
that  afflict  the  crowd,  but  not  to  the  same  extent. 

Ours  is  not  the  era  of  hereditary  rulers,  oli- 
garchies, hierarchies,  or  close  corporations.  But 
neither  is  it,  as  Le  Bon  insists,  "the  era  of  crowds." 
It  is,  in  fact,  the  era  of  publics.  Those  who  perceive 
134 


THE  PROPERTIES  OF  GROUP-UNITS 

that  to-day  under  the  influence  of  universal  discus- 
sion the  old,  fixed  groupings  which  held  their  ad- 
herents so  tenaciously — sects,  parties,  castes,  and  the 
like — ^are  liquefying,  that  allegiances  sit  lightly,  and 
men  are  endlessly  passing  into  new  combinations, 
seek  to  characterize  these  loose  associations  as 
"crowds/'  The  true  crowd  is,  however,  playing  a 
declining  role.  Where  are  the  numbers  that  once 
pressed  about  Abelard  or  St.  Bernard?  The  mass- 
meeting  and  the  primary  assembly  have  plainly  sunk 
in  political  importance.  Universal  contact  by  means 
of  print  ushers  in  "the  rule  of  public  opinion,"  which 
is  a  totally  different  thing  from  "government  by  the 
mob." 

The  sect,  composed  of  those  who  vibrate  to  the 
same  chord  or  cleave  to  the  same  article  of  faith,  is, 
broadly  speaking,  a  homogeneous  group.  It  will 
therefore  present  the  salient  characteristics  of  its 
units  and  present  them  in  an  exaggerated  form. 
Why  this  will  be  so  is  easy  to  see.  Take  a  category 
of  persons — a  class  or  race,  perhaps  only  a  strain  or 
type — with  a  certain  predisposition.  So  long  as 
these  persons  remain  apart  their  idiosyncrasy  will 
not  assert  its  full  strength.  The  eccentricity  of 
opinion,  the  intensity  of  emotion,  or  the  violence  of 
action  of  a  person  mingling  with  those  of  another 
mental  stripe,  is  moderated  by  their  indifference  or 
ridicule.  Amicable  relations  with  minds  of  an  alien 
cast  prompt  us  to  emphasize  agreements  and  to  mini- 
mize differences.  This  instinctive  accommodation 
is  the  entrance  fee  we  pay  in  order  to  enioy  social 

135 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

life.  The  full  tide  of  intercourse  is  the  best  correc- 
tive of  crankiness,  and  it  is  bad  symptom  when  the 
eccentric  shuns  the  unsympathizing  world  and  seeks 
solitude. 

If,  now,  those  of  a  certain  bent  become  aware  of 
one  another,  draw  together  in  fellowship,  formulate 
articles  of  faith,  glorify  distinctive  ideals,  perhaps 
even  frame  a  manner  of  life  and  develop  their  own 
leaders,  gatherings,  and  literature,  a  sect  is  formed. 
To  the  degree  to  which  the  sectaries  segregate  into 
a  "peculiar  people,"  the  old  check  ceases  to  operate. 
For  each  reveling  in  this  new  social  environment  re- 
nounces part  and  lot  with  the  "unbelievers,"  the 
"Philistines,"  the  ''bourgeoisie,"  the  "unillumined," 
the  "world,"  as  the  rest  of  society  is  variously  styled. 
The  moderating  influence  is  withdrawn.  Finding 
countenance,  each  now  rises  to  the  full  stature  of  his 
eccentricity.  If  it  is  class  pride,  he  will  assert  it 
with  an  impudence  and  unreasonableness  he  would 
never  show  by  himself.  If  it  is  some  notion  about 
the  Second  Coming  or  the  treatment  of  disease,  he 
exalts  it  into  a  dogma.  If  it  is  a  dislike,  it  hardens 
into  a  murderous  hatred.  If  it  is  a  prejudice,  it 
mounts  to  the  pitch  of  fanaticism. 

From  the  too  exclusive  intercourse  of  union  work- 
ingmen,  how  mortal  is  the  antipathy  that  springs  up 
toward  the  "rat"  or  the  "scab"!  In  priestly  semi- 
naries, with  what  hoofs  and  horns  they  picture  the 
freethinker!  What  bizarre  notions  of  "bourgeois 
society"  circulate  in  the  taverns  where  anarchists 
touch  glasses !  What  strange  growths  of  belief  or 
136 


THE  PROPERTIES  OF  GROUP-UNITS 

worship  flourish  in  closed  communities  like  the 
Shakers  or  the  Doukhobors !  What  warped  ideas  of 
right  and  wrong  become  hallowed  in  codes  of  tribal 
or  professional  ethics!  What  absurd  idolatries 
strike  root  in  the  Latin  Quarter !  What  crazy  cults 
in  coteries  of  artists  or  writers ! 

In  the  crowd  the  dominant  emotion  becomes  ex- 
aggerated partly  owing  to  the  unrestrained  mani- 
festation of  feeling,  partly  owing  to  its  reverberation 
by  means  of  reciprocal  suggestion.  But  in  the  sect 
all  the  characteristics,  ideas  as  well  as  feelings,  are 
exaggerated.  The  cause  of  this  is  not  heightened 
suggestibility,  but  segregation,  spiritual  in-and-in 
breeding.  The  germs  of  these  monstrous  fungi 
were  in  the  minds  of  the  members  ere  they  came  into 
association.  The  formation  of  the  sect  simply  sup- 
plies the  conditions  of  seclusion  and  twilight  that 
favor  such  cellar  growths. 

The  drawing  together  of  the  like-minded  into  a 
sect  is,  therefore,  a  momentous  step.  It  may  mark 
the  genesis  of  a  tangent  group  that  will  disturb  the 
peace  of  society.  Since  the  sect  is  a  whirlpool  that 
sucks  in  all  persons  of  its  type  and  communicates 
to  them  its  own  motion,  it  is  not  surprising  that  the 
keepers  of  public  order  have  always  been  suspicious 
of  closed  assemblies  and  secret  societies.  It  is  justly 
felt  that  publicity  ought  to  be  forced  upon  all  large 
groups  founded  upon  antithesis  to  the  rest  of  so- 
ciety, and  that  the  astringent  of  public  criticism  or 
public  ridicule  is  needed  to  correct  the  eccentricities 

137 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

that  grow  up  in  too  intimate  and  exclusive  an  asso- 
ciation. 

Blind  strength  can  tear  down,  but  only  brain- 
directed  force  can  build  up.  Amorphous  masses  can 
destroy  the  evil,  but  they  cannot  create  the  good. 
The  great  beneficent  and  ameliorative  associations 
among  men  are  organised.  Of  this  sort  are  collegia, 
guilds,  fraternal  orders,  trades  unions,  cooperative 
societies,  churches,  religious  orders,  brotherhoods, 
scientific  societies  and  academies,  as  well  as  eleemosy- 
nary, trading,  and  industrial  corporations.^  Here 
we  find  order,  precedence,  discipline.  In  such  un- 
ions capacity  holds  the  long  arm  of  the  lever  and  in 
many  things  directs  drudging,  workaday  people  bet- 
ter than  they  can  direct  themselves.  That  men 
rightly  combined  can  secure  a  guidance  far  tran- 
scending their  average  wisdom  is  shown  by  the 

*  "Within  these  bounds  (of  English  group-life)  lie  churches 
and  even  the  mediaeval  church,  one  and  catholic,  religious 
houses,  mendicant  orders,  non-conforming  bodies,  a  presby- 
terian  system,  Universities,  old  and  new,  the  village  commun- 
ity which  Germanists  revealed  to  us,  the  manor  in  its  growth 
and  decay,  the  township,  the  New  England  town,  the  counties 
and  hundreds,  the  chartered  boroughs,  the  gild  in  all  its  man- 
ifold varieties,  the  inns  of  court,  the  merchant  adventurers, 
the  militant  'companies'  of  English  condottieri  who  returning 
home  help  to  make  the  word  'company'  popular  among  us, 
the  trading  companies,  the  companies  that  become  colonies, 
the  companies  that  make  war,  the  friendly  societies,  the 
trades  unions,  the  clubs,  the  group  that  meets  at  Lloyd's 
Coffee-house,  the  group  that  becomes  the  Stock  Exchange, 
and  so  on  even  to  the  one-man-company,  the  Standard  Oil 
Trust  and  the  South  Australian  statutes  for  communistic  vil- 
lages."— Professor  Maitland  in  the  Translator's  Introduc- 
tion to  Gierke's  Political  Theories  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
p.  xxvii. 

138 


THE  PROPERTIES  OF  GROUP-UNITS 

achievements  of  the  Benedictine  monks  in  clearing 
and  civilizing  northern  Europe,  by  the  success  of  the 
mediaeval  burghs,  by  the  preternatural  shrewdness 
of  Jesuit  policy,  by  the  prosperity  of  the  cooperative 
undertakings  under  the  management  of  the  Mormon 
church.  The  victories  of  trades  unions  and  the  tri- 
umphs of  joint-stockism,  from  the  East  India  Com- 
pany to  the  latter-day  Trust,  trumpet  the  merits  of 
the  corporate  form  of  association.  Says  the  latest 
investigator  of  American  communistic  societies : 

There  is  not  one  cooperative  community  in  the  country 

ten  years  old  that  has   popular  government Those 

communities  have  lived  longest  and  been  most  prosperous 
in  which  the  general  membership  has  had  least  to  do  in 
shaping  the  government  or  business  management,  and  in 
which  an  almost  military  discipline  has  been  exercised  by 

some  central  authority In  a  sense  they  have  all  been 

theocracies,  laying  claim  to  an  inspired  leadership,  through 
which,  they  believe,  they  have  enjoyed  divine  guidance,  and 
so  been  saved  from  the  mistakes  and  follies  that  have 
brought  ruin  to  so  many  others.^ 

The  secret  of  corporate  wisdom  is  differentiation 
and  specialization.  Out  of  the  common  run  are 
winnowed  a  directing  few,  and  these  specialize  upon 
their  work  till  they  become  experts.  An  organ — a 
brain  in  any  case,  sometimes  also  a  group-hand  or 
group-eye — is  constituted.  The  towering  capacities 
are  formed  into  a  board,  council,  cabinet,  bureau, 
or  standing  committee,  and  intrusted  with  the  con- 
duct of  the  corporation.     The  methods  of  bringing 

^  "Bulletin  of  the  United  States  Department  of  Labor"  No. 
35,  pp.  642,  643. 

139 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

about  this  concentration  of  power  are  various.  Full 
members  may  be  distinguished  from  novices  or  pro- 
bationers. Members  may  be  graded  by  seniority  or 
services  or  degree  of  initiation,  so  as  to  award  power 
to  the  time-tested  and  discerning.  The  members 
may  choose  their  managers  directly  or  choose  their 
choosers.  Directors  may  hold  power  for  life,  for 
a  stated  term,  long  or  short,  or  until  ousted.  In 
the  exercise  of  power  they  may  be  absolute,  or 
they  may  be  hampered  by  the  constitution  or  the 
referendum.  The  responsibility  of  an  executive 
board  may  be  directly  to  the  members  or  to  a  rep- 
resentative assembly,  itself  responsible.  The  or- 
gan of  direction  may  be  simple,  compound,  or 
doubly-compound.  These  details  we  must  hurry  by, 
for  they  involve  the  whole  philosophy  of  govern- 
ment. 

In  the  corporation  the  group- judgment  or  group- 
will  is  no  longer — as  in  the  crowd  or  the  sect — the 
immediate  outcome  of  the  interactions  of  the  mem- 
bers. The  justification  for  thus  handing  over 
thought  and  choice  to  the  few  is  threefold.  In  the 
first  place,  associates  are  unequal  in  capacity.  Sec- 
ondly, those  steeped  in  any  business  soon  distance 
the  layman  in  expertness.  This  principle  of  spe- 
cialization would  call  into  being  directive  organs 
even  if  associates  were  precisely  equal  in  ability. 
Thirdly,  only  in  small  assemblages,  probably  of  less 
than  twoscore,  occurs  that  happy  and  ever-to-be- 
desired  intellectual  synthesis  which  yields  a  collective 
judgment  superior  to  even  the  best  individual  judg- 
140 


THE  PROPERTIES  OF  GROUP-UNITS 

ment.  Large  assemblages  inhibit  thinking.  But  in 
the  council  that  gathers  about  a  single  board,  that  is 
addressed  in  ordinary  tones,  that  neither  applauds 
nor  hisses,  but  only  listens  and  thinks,  minds  easily 
fecundate  one  another.  Each  acquaints  the  rest 
with  the  facet  of  life  he  has  seen,  the  arc  of  experi- 
ence he  has  traveled.  Since  no  one  looks  upon  all 
the  faces  of  the  infinite  polyhedron  of  life,  even 
the  master-mind  learns  something  in  the  council- 
chamber.  Amid  the  stillness  and  measured  speech 
brains  join,  as  it  were,  into  one  great  brain  that 
ponders  and  decides  wiselier  than  can  any  individual. 
Hence  the  saying:  "Many  to  advise,  one  to  execute." 

Let  no  one  imagine,  however,  that  the  concentra- 
tion of  power  in  organs  is  without  its  drawbacks. 
Broadly  speaking,  the  action  of  any  group-unit  has 
reference  to  the  assuming  of  certain  burdens  with  a 
view  to  enjoying  certain  benefits.  Such  action  is 
successful  when  every  associate  reaps  a  benefit  that 
outweighs  the  burden  he  has  had  to  bear.  But  the 
action,  albeit  blameless  as  regards  the  adjustment  of 
means  to  contemplated  ends,  may,  nevertheless,  miss 
this  happy  outcome.  The  reasons  are  three:  the 
benefit  may  have  been  overestimated ;  the  burden 
may  have  been  underestimated ;  the  benefit  may  be 
shared  otherwise  than  the  burden  has  been  shared. 

Now,  just  because  it  is  select,  small,  and  special- 
ized, a  directive  organ  is  liable  to  get  "out  of  touch" 
with  the  membership.  Aloof  in  sympathies  and  ap- 
preciations, a  board  of  sages  easily  misapprehends 
the  desires  of  its  people,    misconceives    what    will 

141 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

really  benefit  them.  Thus  the  committee  of  a  book 
club  buys  books  the  subscribers  do  not  care  to  read. 
The  trustees  of  a  church  inflict  on  the  members  a 
preacher  they  do  not  care  to  hear.  A  park  board 
mulcts  taxpayers  for  a  city  park  so  remote  that  few 
of  them  can  visit  it  on  week  days.  Or  the  burden 
may  be  underestimated,  seeing  that  only  the  wearer 
knows  where  the  shoe  pinches.  The  physicians  on 
a  board  of  health  impose  fussy  sanitary  regulations 
which  are  an  intolerable  annoyance  to  the  masses. 
Labor  leaders  order  a  strike  the  miseries  of  which 
they  do  not  fully  realize.  Directors  build  up  a  re- 
serve with  earnings  that  the  stockholders  had  count- 
ed on  receiving  as  dividends.  Well-intentioned 
rulers  exercise  the  right  of  quartering  troops,  of  im- 
pressment, of  search,  or  of  taxation,  with  little  idea 
of  the  galling  burdens  they  impose. 

Most  serious  of  all,  power  is  liable  to  be  diverted 
to  the  private  benefit  of  the  power-holders.  Always 
and  everywhere  the  passive  category  of  citizens 
sheds  more  than  its  share  of  blood,  pays  more  than 
its  share  of  taxes.  Always  and  everywhere  public 
moneys  are  spent  chiefly  for  the  few,  when  the  few 
rule.  Power  without  responsibility  is  demoraliz- 
ing. With  every  grant  of  power  should  go  strict  ac- 
countability for  its  use.  If  the  commons  are  not 
competent  to  judge  projects,  they  are  at  least  com- 
petent to  judge  results.  The  pudding  is  proved  in 
the  eating.  By  this  touchstone  even  blockheads  can 
tell  sages  from  quacks  and  knaves.  Grant  the  wise 
few  power  to  act  for  all,  but  couple, therewith  the 
142 


THE  PROPERTIES  OF  GROUP-UNITS 

obligation  to  surrender  that  power  if  the  many  find 
the  consequences  not  to  their  Hking-.  Life-tenure, 
cooptation,  hereditary  transmission,  secrecy,  censor- 
ship, terrorism — all  these  devices  that  enable  a  grant 
of  power  to  be  usurped — divide  associates  into  shear- 
ers and  shorn,  and  so  destroy  the  unity  and  harmony 
of  the  group. 

The  intellectual  superiority  of  the  corporation  be- 
ing established,  let  us  turn  to  its  moral  characteris- 
tics. Does  the  delegation  of  power  exalt  justice  as 
much  as  it  exalts  wisdom  ? 

The  corporate  form  leaves  the  choice  of  means 
and  methods  to  the  worshipful  few — its  aldermen, 
directors,  or  trustees.  Now,  these  know  that  they 
stand  or  fall  by  results.  If  the  fruits  of  their  man- 
agement are  pleasant,  who  will  scan  too  curiously 
the  means  employed  ?  They  are  bidden  succeed.  If 
from  excess  of  scruple  they  fail,  others  less  scrupu- 
lous will  take  their  places.  Suppose,  moreover,  the 
directors  regard  their  power  as  a  sacred  trust,  or  are 
devoted  heart  and  soul  to  the  aggrandizement  of 
their  group.  In  such  case  their  very  conscientious- 
ness will  blunt  their  impulses  to  justice.  Their 
esprit  de  corps  will  qualify  their  allegiance  to  moral 
standards.  One  altruism  will  block  the  other.  This 
is  why  good  men  on  behalf  of  their  group  will  stoop 
to  misdeeds  they  would  shrink  from  committing  for 
themselves. 

More  rarely  than  other  group-units  does  a  cor- 
poration pursue  wicked  ends.  If  the  corporation  is 
without  sentiment,  neither  does  it  come  into  being 

143 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

in  order  to  glut  some  diabolic  passion.  It  never 
wantonly  razes,  burns,  kills,  tortures.  Chosen 
openly,  deliberately,  and  under  the  sobering  influ- 
ence of  the  sagacious,  its  goals  bear  inspection. 
This,  no  doubt,  is  why  the  corporation  is  so  often 
legitimized  and  adopted  as  a  regular  social  organ. 

But  in  its  choice  of  means  the  corporation  is  less 
scrupulous  than  most  other  collectivities.  Its  sins 
are  not  prompted  by  anger  or  vindictiveness,  but  by 
pure  egoism.  The 'more  complex  its  organization, 
the  more  Machiavellian  will  the  corporation  show 
itself  in  the  pursuit  of  its  ends.  It  is  unmoved  by 
generosity  or  malevolence.  It  knows  no  standard 
but  success.  It  cherishes  no  malice,  but  woe  to  him 
who  stands  in  its  path.  It  gravitates  toward  its  goal 
with  the  ruthlessness  of  a  lava-stream.  Remember 
the  church's  way  with  *  disturbers,"  Pascal's  arraign- 
ment of  Jesuit  ethics,  Reade's  expose  of  trades-union 
crimes,  Brigham  Young's  Danites,  the  black  record 
of  joint-stock  companies!  As  for  the  state,  the  or- 
gan of  the  national  group,  its  crimes  are  mountain- 
high.  For  calling  the  state's  lies  "diplomacy,"  its 
violences  "war,"  its  murders  "punishment,"  and  its 
robberies  "annexation"  or  "indemnity"  cannot 
change  the  moral  complexion  of  such  actions. 

In  general,  companies  of  men  are  more  consist- 
ently selfish  than  are  the  men  themselves.  To  prick 
of  conscience,  to  honor  and  shame,  individuals  are 
more  sensitive  than  are  group-units.  In  the  clash 
of  crowds,  classes,  sects,  and  corporate  bodies,  how 
nearly  is  it  true  that  might  makes  right !  One  rea- 
144 


THE  PROPERTIES  OF  GROUP-UNITS 

son  is  that  a  divided  responsibility  evaporates,  be- 
comes no  responsibility,  when  we  can  creep  under 
the  cloak  of  anonymity.  Another  is  that  most  of  us 
need  the  caustic  comment  of  our  fellows  to  keep  us 
in  the  high  road.  When  we  are  all  tempted  at  once, 
there  is  no  one  to  cry  "Shame !"  and  we  plunge  into 
the  mire  together.  Finally  the  group-unit  engrosses 
the  moral  capital  of  its  members.  Suppose  the 
strength  of  my  regard  for  the  rights  of  others  is  ten. 
Against  an  immoral  hankering  with  an  energy  of 
eight  my  conscience  will  triumph.  I  will  do  the 
right.  But  if  my  group-unit  evinces  this  same  im- 
moral desire,  there  is  now  ranged  on  the  side  of  my 
hankering  my  esprit  de  corps,  with  an  energy,  say, 
of  four.  This  time  my  sense  of  justice  encounters 
twelve  units  of  energy  and  is  vanquished.  As  mem- 
ber of  the  group  I  will  demand  the  iniquity,  as  rep- 
resentative order  it,  as  agent  execute  it.  For  nearly 
everyone  feels,  if  he  does  not  avow:  "My  class,  my 
church,  my  party,  my  country,  right  or  wrong!" 
Thus  the  special  altruism  that  so  often  prompts  the 
individual  to  virtue — clannishness,  class  loyalty,  sec- 
tarianism, corporate  feeling,  patriotism — works  on 
the  devil's  side  when  a  group  is  tempted  to  do  wrong. 
For  these  causes  group-units  in  their  behavior  to 
one  another  recall  the  saurian  monsters  of  the  Cre- 
taceous. No  need  of  dwelling  on  the  far  ferocities 
of  hordes,  tribes,  cities  and  factions.  Even  to-day 
the  beak-and-claw  struggle,  renounced  as  between 
individuals,  continues  between  companies,  unions, 
parties,  sects,  and  nations.  Everything,  therefore, 
10  X45 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

that  crystallizes  men  into  rigid  group-units  turns 
back  the  clock  and  puts  off  the  hour  of  justice. 
Spencer  is  right.  The  lock-step  forms  of  coopera- 
tion which  reduce  the  man  to  a  cipher  are  reaction- 
ary. Tolstoi  is^jight.  J  The  iron  machines  —  ad- 
ministrative, military,  ecclesiastical — that  cramp  the 
individual  reason  and  conscience  prolong  into  our 
age  the  reign  of  brute  force.  Group-units  are  not 
moral  unless  they  have  to  cater  to  the  moral  sense  of 
the  individual  in  order  to  win  or  keep  members. 
The  cause  of  right  is  bound  up  with  the  triumph  of 
free  associations  giving  play  to  the  conscience  and 
judgment  of  each  individual. 

Certain  under-ripe  philosophers  assure  us  that 
character  is  everything,  machinery  nothing.  Con- 
stitution-tinkering is  time  lost.  Never  shall  we  get 
better  government  or  laws  or  creeds  or  standards 
till  we  get  better  citizens.  The  stream  cannot  rise 
higher  than  its  source.  Castaways  can  never  make 
a  living  **by  taking  in  one  another's  washing."  No 
"silk  purse  out  of  a  sow's  ear."  No  social  progress 
save  by  individual  improvement.  And  as  the  im- 
proving of  millions  of  men  and  women  is  the  most 
formidable  of  undertakings,  the  practical  conclusion 
is,  "Do  nothing!" 

Nevertheless,  if  it  is  true — as  I  have  shown — that 
the  sagacity  and  virtue  a  given  body  of  persons  dis- 
play depends  in  no  small  measure  upon  their  mode  of 
association,  a  vista  opens.  Why  not  improve  the 
mode  of  association?  Faultily  organized  at  many 
points,  society  by  no  means  realizes  on  its  present 
146 


THE  PROPERTIES  OF  GROUP-UNITS 

spiritual  assets.  Argal,  teach  it  to  exploit  them 
more  skillfully.  Let  the  making  of  better  men  go 
on.  'Tis  a  grand  work,  though  slow.  But  why  not 
in  the  meiantime  exalt  wisdom  and  justice  by  organ- 
izing men  in  better  ways?  Let  us  by  all  means 
thresh  out  the  jury  system,  municipal  home-rule, 
'  proportional  representation,  the  referendum,  the 
mode  of  choosing  senators,  the  direct  primary,  the 
responsibility  of  directors,  the  general  army  staff, 
the  walking  delegate,  bishop  vs,  congregation,  mayor 
vs.  council,  superintendent  vs.  board  of  education, 
advisory  vs.  mandatory  commission,  and  questions 
of  that  ilk.  These  matters  have  greatly  to  do  with 
the  triumph  of  intelligence,  conscience,  and  faculty 
in  social  affairs,  and  are  by  no  means  to  be  airily 
waved  aside  as  "mere  machinery." 

To  sum  up:  >; 

•^  The  properties  displayed  by  a  social  group  depend, 
for  one  thing,  upon  the  Characteristics  of  its  Units. 
But  this  is  not  all  the  truth.  '' 

When  people  throng  under  exciting  circum- 
stances, actions  and  reactions  are  set  up  which  pres- 
ently bring  them  to  a  state  of  mind  marked  by  high 
suggestibility,  emotional  tension,  great  credulity,  and 
confused  thinking.  The  group-unit  reflects,  not  the 
.  normal  self  of  its  members,  but  this  pseudo-person- 
alit}^ — this  mob  mood  induced  by  the  way  persons 
affect  one  another  in  the  throng.  The  traits  of  a 
collectivity,  therefore,  depend  in  part  upon  the  Man- 
-^    ner  of  Interaction  of  its  members. 

147 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Again,  the  manner  of  constituting  the  gjoup-unit 
may  give  leverage  to  the  wise  or  give  it  to  the  rash, 
favor  the  man  of  words  or  exalt  the  man  of  ideas, 
put  the  helm  into  the  hands  of  the  worthy  or  leave  it 
to  be  grasped  by  the  first-comer.  The  character 
exhibited  by  an  aggregate  of  men  depends,  there- 
fore, in  some  degree  on  their  Mode  of  Combination. 


I 


VII 


THE  SOCIAL  FORCES* 

In  his  First  Principles  Spencer  adopts  a  mechan- 
ical interpretation  of  society,  and  dwells  on  those 
aspects  of  social  life  which  seem  to  illustrate  the 
principles  of  his  evolutionary  philosophy.  I  have  al- 
ready shown  that  he  established  analogies,  but  not 
identities  of  principle,  and  that  the  social  laws  he 
set  up  by  the  simple  process  of  extending  cosmic 
laws  over  social  facts  are  in  many  cases  untrue. 

In  his  Principles  of  Sociology  Spencer  renounces 
these  earlier  theories,  and  they  might  well  be  left  un- 
noticed had  not  Giddings  given  them  a  new  lease  of 
life.  He  conceives  that  social  facts  admit  of  a 
double  interpretation,  the  objective  and  the  subjec- 
tive. In  society  things  happen,  no  doubt,  because  of 
men^s  desires,  but  also  because  a  part  of  cosmic  en- 
ergy is  converted  in,to  organic  and  social  energies. 
"Social  evolution  is  but  a  phase  of  cosmic  evolu- 
tion."^ In  the  expansion  of  states,  the  movement 
of  population  toward  opportunities,  the  concentra- 
tion of  men  in  cities,  the  course  of  exchanges,  the 
lines  of  legislative  policy,  and  the  direction  of  relig- 
ious, scientific,  and  educational  movements,  he  sees 

*  Vide  The  American  Journal  of  Sociology,  January,  1904. 

*  "Principles  of  Sociology,"  p.  363. 

149 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

motion  following  the  line  of  least  resistance.  "Re- 
ligion, morals,  philosophy,  science,  literature,  art, 
and  fashion,  are  all  subject  to  the  law  of  rhythm."^ 
The  integration,  differentiation,  and  segregation  that 
go  on  in  society  have  like  causes  with  the  corre- 
sponding"cosmic  processe 

It  is  hard  to  find  good  warrant  for  this  dual  inter- 
pretation. After  a  human  activity  has  been  ex- 
plained in  terms  of  motive,  why  reexplain  it  in  terms 
of  energy?  If  a  principle  such  as  men  go  where 
they  can  most  easily  satisfy  their  wants  accounts  for 
the  currents  of  migration,  why  try  to  account  for 
them  on  the  principle  that  motion  follows  the  line  of 
least  resistance f  If  the  rhythms  we  find  in  every 
field  of  human  interest  from  dress  to  religion  occur 
because  "attention  demands  change  in  its  object," 
why  class  them  with  rhythms  due  to  "conflict  of 
forces  not  in  equilibrium."  As  for  the  processes  of 
integration,  differentiation,  and  segregation  among 
men,  I  have  already  shown  that  they  differ  in  prin- 
ciple from  the  processes  of  cosmic  evolution. 

A  more  common  error  is  the  assumption  that  so- 
cial phenomena  flow  from  the  interaction  of  two  sets 
of  factors,  one  external,  the  other  internal.  Under 
such  terms  as  "race  and  locality,"  "man  and  environ- 
ment," "folk  and  land,"  this  dualism  constantly  re- 
curs in  sociological  writing. 

There  are,  no  doubt,  social  processes  which  have 
both  internal  and  external  causes.  The  growth  of 
population   may  be   conceived   as   the   product   of 

*  "Principles  of  Sociology,"  p.  370. 
150 


THE  SOCIAL  FORCES 

psychic  factors — procreative  impulses,  desire  for  off- 
spring, etc. — which  determine  the  birth-rate,  with 
physical  factors — seasons,  crops,  etc. — which  de- 
termine the  death-rate.  Again,  the  size  of  a  crop 
depends  upon  the  acreage — which  men  can  control — 
and  upon  the  weather — which  men  cannot  control. 
The  herring  catch  depends  at  once  on  the  market 
demand  for  herring  and  on  the  size  of  the  ''run." 

Most  of  the  instances,  however,  that  form  the 
stock-in-trade  of  the  environment  school  do  not  sup- 
port their  case  at  all.  Migrations  and  coloniza- 
tions, the  territorial  distribution  of  population,  the 
distribution  of  labor  among  the  various  occupations, 
the  investment  of  capital,  the  location  of  cities,  the 
lines  of  communication,  and  the  currents  of  trade, 
have  human  volitions  as  their  proximate  causes, 
and  not  the  features  of  the  physical  environment. 

The  ground  for  so  bold  an  assertion  is  the  neg- 
lected distinction  between  the  factors  of  a  telic 
event  and  the  factors  of  the  volition  that  brings 
about  the  event.  Let  me  illustrate.  If  a  boatman, 
aiming  to  reach  a  pier  on  the  other  side  of  a  swift 
river,  fails  to  allow  for  the  current,  he  may  be  swept 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  below  his  destination.  In  this 
case  it  may  be  permissible  to  explain  the  outcome 
as  the  joint  effect  of  the  man's  volition  and  the  force 
of  the  current.  But  if  the  boatman  "allows  fot;*' 
the  current,  and  keeps  the  bow  of  the  boat  suflEl- 
ciently  upstream  to  land  him  at  the  pier,  we  explaiip 
the  outcome  either  as  the  realization  of  a  purpose,- 
or  as  the  resultant  of  the  force  of  the  current  and 
151 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

the  muscular  force  applied  to  the  propulsion  of  the 
boat.  We  can  adopt  either  the  teleological  or  the 
mechanical  explanation.  But  since  both  the  phys- 
ical factors  were  perceived  and  calculated  in  advance, 
we  should  never  combine  the  two  explanations; 
they  are  alternative,  not  dual. 

Now,  the  local  distribution  of  immigrants  in  a 
region  can  and  should  be  explained  in  terms  of  pur- 
pose. It  is  only  when,  pressing  further  back,  we 
undertake  to  account  for  their  purposes  that  we 
come  upon  considerations  relating  to  climate,  soil, 
water,  timber,  and  the  like.  Similarly,  a  railway 
net  has  all  its  causes  in  the  volitions  of  the  men  who 
had  it  built.  The  topography  of  the  country  enters 
into  the  case  only  as  affecting  the  motives  that  de- 
termine these  volitions.  It  is  a  dim  recognition  of 
this  distinction  that  leads  most  writers  to  speak  of 
the  physical  environment  as  "influence"  rather  than 
cause. 

Undoubtedly  men's  choices  are  conditioned  and 
their  projects  limited  by  the  physical  framework 
they  live  in.  Mesology  or  the  study  of  the  influence 
of  the  environment  will  always  be  a  fascinating 
chapter  in  our  science.  Still,  since  the  external 
facts  are  foreseen  and  taken  into  account  in  intelli- 
gent telic  action,  it  is  necessary  to  regard  social 
phenomena  as  essentially  psychic,  and  to  look  for 
their  immediate  causes  in  mind. 

Another  error  consists  in  identifying  these  causes 
with  needs  rather  than  wants.  Usually  need  means 
what  we  think  people  ought  to  want.  But  it  is  actual 
152 


THE  SOCIAL  FORCES 

desire  that  controls  the  behavior  of  people.  Their 
follies  and  frivolities,  their  vanities,  lusts,  and 
vicious  inclinations,  cannot  be  left  out  of  the  reck- 
oning in  a  theory  of  society  as  it  is,  or  even  of 
society  as  it  might  he} 

Some  would  lend  the  needs  theory  .a  philosophic 
basis  by  interpreting  need  as  ''requisite  for  survival," 
as  that  which  helps  one  live,  work,  compete,  repro- 
duce. They  argue  that  those  who  do  not  crave  the 
useful  will,  in  the  long  run,  be  eliminated.  Since 
natural  selection  is  constantly  trimming  down  wants 
to  make  them  square  with  needs,  all  the  principal 
social  activities  can  be  looked  upon  as  ''functions." 
Here  the  fact  is  overlooked  that  man  has  climbed 
out  of  the  cock-pit,  and  his  life  is  now,  on  the  whole, 
a  struggle  for  happiness  rather  than  for  bare  exist- 
ence. Because  they  multiply  up  to  the  food  supply, 
animals  pass  their  lives  in  providing  for  their  needs. 
A  living  is  all  they  get.  If  a  people  gives  rein  to 
the  reproductive  instinct,  it  too  will  be  absorbed  in 
supplying  its  needs.  But  foreseeing  man  under - 
breeds,  and  so  wins  elbow  room,  gains  a  margin  of 
energy  which  is  soon  claimed  by  new  wants.  Prop- 
erty is  a  stockade  which  keeps  the  wolf  of  hunger 
at  bay  and  permits  the  owner  indulgences  and  grat- 
ifications that  have  no  bearing  on  survival.     Had 

*  Assuming  that  the  defects  of  individual  character  flow 
from  defects  in  society  the  Utopian  asks  himself:  "What 
social  arrangements  would  be  possible  among  perfect  men?" 
The  practical  reformer  inquires :  "Given  average  human  na- 
ture as  we  find  it  under  benign  conditions,  how  may  society 
be  improved?" 

153 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

no  such  space  been  cleared,  how  could  the  higher 
interests  and  pursuits  have  come  into  being? 

In  the  presence  of  the  great  recurrent  social  ac- 
tivities the  needs  theory  looks  plausible.  Of  course, 
family  life,  industry,  government,  and  defense  can 
be  looked  upon  as  welfare  activities.  It  is  even  pos- 
sible to  give  to  religion,  law,  morals,  education,  and 
art  a  functional  interpretation  and  to  ignore  the 
specific  non-essential  cravings  that  in  these  spheres 
seek  their  satisfaction.  But  the  theory  breaks  down 
when  confronted  with  those  dynamic  activities 
which,  because  they  are  occasional,  must  rank  as 
luxuries  and  not  as  necessities.  Such  are  the  ex- 
pansion of  the  Arabs  incited  by  Mahomet,  the  mon- 
astic movement,  the  Crusades,  the  Renaissance,  the 
wars  of  religion,  the  proselyting  conquests  of  revo- 
lutionary France,  the  anti-slavery  movement,  the 
spread  of  foreign  missions,  and  the  expansion  of 
the  higher  education.  These  have  to  be  stated  in 
terms  of  desire,  and  accounted  for  by  those  things 
which  arouse  desire,  namely,  new  ideas  and  beliefs. 

Hardly  have  we  worked  through  to  the  great 
truth,  first  emphasized  by  Lester  F.  Ward,  that  the 
social  forces  are  human  desires,  when  we  come  upon 
a  new  thicket  of  errors. 

First  is  the  notion,  fostered  by  the  organic  con- 
ception of  society,  that  the  diverse  desires  of  indi- 
viduals are,  as  it  were,  melted  down  into  a  single 
desire  for  the  social  welfare,  and  that  this  general- 
ized force  it  is  which  furnishes  the  driving  power 
for  the  various  "social  organs."  Even  Spencer  is 
154 


THE  SOCIAL  FORCES 

apt  to  attribute  a  social  structure  either  to  the  indi- 
vidual sense  of  a  common  interest  or  to  the  common 
sense  of  individual  interest,  and  to  overlook  the 
role  of  specific  desires  in  generating  particular  insti- 
tutions. Thus  in  his  theory  of  marriage  he  under- 
rates the  role  of  sexual  jealousy,  which  in  certain 
places  has  had  much  to  do  with  determining  the 
form  of  the  family.  He  regards  religious  practices 
as  instigated  by  fear,  and  fails  to  notice  that  in  cer- 
tain developments  of  religion  the  love  of  a  benig- 
nant deity  and  the  craving  for  certain  ecstatic  experi- 
ences have  become  important  motives  of  worship. 

In  his  account  of  law,  after  distinguishing  be- 
tween laws  that  are  personally  derived  and  those 
that  are  impersonally  derived,  Spencer  states  that 
the  force  which  calls  the  latter  into  being  is  "the 
consensus  of  individual  interests."^  A  more  ex- 
haustive analysis  shows  that  along  with  the  general 
desire  to  safeguard  individual  interests  work  such 
special  factors  as  the  desire  for  fair  play,  and  sym- 
pathy with  the  resentment  of  the  wronged  man. 

Again,  in  considering  the  political  forces  Spencer 
states  that  "governing  agencies,  during  their  early 
stages,  are  at  once  the  products  of  aggregate  feel- 
ing, derive  their  powers  from  it,  and  are  restrained 
by  it."^  The  fact  is  overlooked  that  along  with  the 
aggregate  feeling  there  is  a  specific  desire — ^the  love 
of  power — which,  although  animating  only  the  few, 
continually   crowds  government  beyond  what  the 

^"Principles  of  Sociology,"  vol.  II,  §  533. 
'Ibid.,  §  469. 

15s 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

general  feeling  approves.  On  the  other  hand,  an- 
other specific  force — the  impatience  of  restraint — 
may  keep  government  below  what  the  general  feel- 
ing demands. 

Truly  extraordinary  is  De  Greef's  idea  of  the 
"forces"  which  carry  on  the  social  "functions."^ 
Since  there  are  seven  kinds  of  social  "organs"  or 
"tissues,"  there  are  seven  kinds  of  collective  force 
resident  in  these  tissues;  thus  there  is  a  collective 
scientific  force,  a  collective  economic  force,  and 
even  "a  collective  reproductive  force" ! 

Another  error  is  the  assumption  of  a  quantitative 
relation  between  desire  and  some  non-spiritual  form 
of  energy,  or  between  one  species  of  desire  and  an- 
other species. 

^  Winiarski,^  for  example,  insists  that  feeling, 
thought  and  will  are  forms  of  kinetic  biotic  energy. 
The  chemical  energy  stored  up  in  the  tissues,  when 
it  is  converted  into  heat,  gives  rise  to  vital  and 
psychic  phenomena.  The  strength  of  a  particular 
desire  will  depend  upon  the  quantity  of  energy 
stored  up  in  the  tissues  and  upon  the  intensity  of  the 
external  stimulus.  The  direction  of  the  discharge 
is  always  toward  pleasure.  "Man  is  a  chariot  and 
pleasure  is  the  charioteer." 

The  primordial  forms  of  biotic  energ}^  are  hunger 
and  love,  but  by  check  these  can  be  converted  into 
other  orders  of  desire  just  as  the  arrest  of  a  moving 

*  "Introduction  a  la  sociologie,"  Deuxieme  partie,  ch.  I. 

*  Revue  Philosophique,  vol.  XLV,  pp.  351-386;  vol.  XLIX, 
pp.  113-134. 

156 


THE  SOCIAL  FORCES 

body  transforms  its  motion  into  heat,  light,  and  elec- 
tricity. Thus  when,  among  primitive  men,  the 
strong  are  not  strong  enough  to  kill  and  eat  the 
weak,  their  balked  appetite  reappears  as  a  desire  to 
dominate.  If  their  superiority  of  strength  becomes 
too  slight  to  uphold  slavery,  the  unsatisfied  lust  of 
domination  is  transformed  into  envy.  Similarly  the 
sex  appetite,  obstructed  in  its  main  channel,  broadens 
into  sympathy,  philanthropy,  poesy,  the  artistic  im- 
pulses, and  the  longings  of  the  religious  mystic.  It 
is  the  repression  of  the  propensities  that  found  scope 
in  primitive  promiscuity  that  gives  rise  to  the  do- 
mestic and  social  affections ! 

Winiarski  boldly  applies  his  principle  of  equiva- 
lence. He  argues  that,  since  the  transformation  of 
hunger  and  love  into  the  higher  wants  means  the 
conversion  of  potential  into  kinetic  energy,  the  evo- 
lution of  a  civilization  involves  a  lowering  of  the 
potential  of  a  people  and  its  eventual  replacement  by 
a  fresh,  unexhausted  race.  I  shall  later  show  that 
the  race  decline  which  does,  in  fact,  frequently  at- 
tend social  progress  is  due,  not  at  all  to  the  lavish 
expenditure  of  energy  in  social  achievement,  but  to 
needless  mis-selections.^ 

He  conceives  further  that  examples,  ideas,  and 
commands  radiate  from  the  classes  and  persons  of 
greater  energy  to  those  of  less  energy,  this  radiation 
taking  the  form  of  the  authority  and  influence  the 
social  superior  exercises  over  the  social  inferior.  It 
follows  that  this  passage  of  energy  tends  to  termin- 

157 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ate  in  an  equalizing  of  intensities  and  a  state  of  equi- 
librium.^ Winiarski  forgets  that,  while  the  commu- 
nication of  ideas  does  tend  to  equalize  the  wise  and 
the  simple,  the  exercise  of  command  does  not  tend 
to  equalize  superior  and  subordinate  and  so  put  an 
end  to  itself.     It  may  continue  for  centuries. 

The  endeavor  to  translate  desire  into  physical 
antecedents  shatters  on  the  fact  that  desires  flow  out 
from  consciousness,  and  their  objects  depend  greatly 
on  the  contents  and  processes  of  the  mind.  It  is  true 
that  sexual  desire,  the  craving  for  exercise,  and  such 
passions  as  hope,  fear,  and  anger,  reflect  our  bodily 
condition,  and  may  easily  figure  as  forms  of  phys- 
iological energy.  But  the  values  and  ideals,  which 
lure  us  with  equal  power  in  weakness  as  in  health,  in 
old  age  as  in  our  prime,  vary  not  so  much  with  our 
bodily  condition  as  with  our  way  of  thinking.  So 
long  as  we  think  the  same  of  an  object  we  desire  it 
with  undiminished  intensity.  But  if  we  see  it  in  a 
new  light,  it  ceases  to  gleam.  An  ideal,  which  is  a 
peculiar  set  imparted  to  our  admiration,  a  value, 
which  is  a  peculiar  set  given  to  our  judgment,  is  to 
be  explained  by  our  experiences.  The  statement 
that  a  man's  ambition  to  become  an  athlete  or  an  ora- 
tor is  a  mode  of  biotic  energy  tells  me  nothing  I 
want  to  know  the  impressions,  ideas,  or  reasonings 
which  lead  him  to  attach  worth  to  these  things. 

r    Desire  may  or  may  not  be  a  form  of  energy.     In 
any  case  it  is  certain  that  a  mechanical  interpretation 
x^  cannot  help  us  to  predict  the  choices  of  people.    At 
the  lower  animal  levels  action  is  easy  to  gauge,  be- 
158 


THE  SOCIAL  FORCES 

cause  life  consists  in  an  interplay  of  stimulus  and 
reaction.  Higher  up  this  is  complicated  by  the  asso- 
ciative memory,  and  the  response  to  inner  or  outer 
stimuli  is  not  quite  so  uniform  and  sure.  At  the 
level  of  primitive  man  we  find  successive  individual 
experiences  and  reactions  fusing  and  giving  rise  to 
processes  of  consciousness  which  yield  such  con- 
stants as  language,  custom,  and  myth.  Moreover, 
a  considerable  portion  of  psychic  energy  has  become 
emancipated  from  stimulus  and  manifests  itself  in 
spontaneous  activities  of  a  sportive  or  festal  char- 
acter. 

In  the  civilized  man  we  miss  that  mechanical  sim- 
plicity which  makes  the  lower  psychic  life  so  trans- 
parent and  predictable.  The  key  to  his  behavior  lies 
no  longer  in  the  play  of  stimuli  upon  him,  but  in  his 
consciousness.  This  has  gathered  in  volume  and 
consistency  until  his  center  of  gravity  lies  here  rather 
than  in  current  impressions.  The  mental  content 
has  acquired  such  mass,  and  experience  has  been 
wrought  up  into  such  forms — idea,  concept,  formula, 
ideal — that  at  each  moment  they  control  more  than 
do  the  external  conditions.  Stable  character  be- 
comes possible.  A  quantitative  relation  between 
stimulus  and  reaction  may  no  longer  be  assumed.. 
The  specific  response  is  now  repressed,  now  many 
times  greater  than  one  would  expect.  Energy  no 
longer  flows  freely  away  in  the  form  of  play,  but  is 
largely  absorbed  in  series  of  volitional  acts,  planned 
with  reference  to  an  end. 

With  the  growth  of  consciousness  in  mass  and 
159 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

complexity  the  man's  actions  become  ever  more  puz- 
zling to  those  who  attend  only  to  the  non-psychic 
factors,  such  as  physique,  temperament,  state  of 
health,  climate,  aspect  of  nature,  the  solicitation  of 
the  moment.  The  reason  is  that  life  has  become 
spiritualized.  The  non-psychic  factors  have  become 
less  decisive  than  that  organized  body  of  experience 
we  call  the  personality.  Hence,  in  order  to  antici- 
pate action,  it  is  more  important  to  explore  the  per- 
sonality than  to  attend  to  the  external  factors. 
^  Now,  what  experience  is  to  the  individual,  culture 
is  to  the  race.  Just  as,  on  the  higher  levels  of  indi- 
vidual life,  physical  and  physiological  causes  retreat 
in  favor  of  psychic  causes,  so,  on  the  higher  levels  of 
social  life,  geographic  and  racial  factors  lose  in  sig- 
nificance, and  social  destiny  is  shaped  more  by  such 
bodies  of  organized  experience  as  language,  relig- 
ion, morals,  law,  the  arts  and  the  sciences.  There  is, 
in  fact,  a  double  reason  for  affirming  that  in  a  civil- 
ized people  the  causes  of  social  phenomena  will  be 
essentially  psychic.  The  actions  of  persons  will  re- 
flect the  influence  of  that  organized  embodiment  of 
individual  experience  we  call  personality,  and  they 
will  reflect  the  influence  of  that  organized  embodi- 
ment of  collective  experience  we  call  civilization. 
In  this  case  an  interpretation  of  social  phenomena 
without  reference  to  the  constitution  and  character 
of  the  individual  mind,  or  to  the  constitution  and 
character  of  the  social  mind,  will  be  unsatisfying: 
Since,  now,  the  main  purpose  of  sociology  is  to  en- 
able us  to  understand  and  to  forecast  the  activities 
i6o 


THE  SOCIAL  FORCES 

of  civilized  men,  we  are  justified  in  insisting  that  it 
is  chiefly  a  psychical  science.  Its  causes  are  to  be  ^ 
sought  in  mental  processes,  its  forces  are  psychic 
forces,  and  no  ultimate  non-psychic  factors  should 
be  recognized  until  it  is  shown  just  how  they  are  able 
to  affect  motive  and  choice. 

Having  made  clear  the  nature  of  the  social  forceSj^_ 
let  us  now  consider  their  classification. 

But  do  they  need  to  be  classified  ?  Do  not  all  de- 
sires reduce  to  one  ?  About  us  we  see  men  urged  by 
a  score  of  instincts,  lured  by  a  hundred  goals,  yet  the 
hedonist  insists  they  are  all  seeking  the  same  thing, 
namely,  the  maximization  of  pleasure  and  the  mini-  \ 
mization  of  pain. 

In  view  of  all  the  forging  it  has  undergone,  it 
would  be  strange  indeed  if  human  nature  were  so 
simple.  There  are  the  instincts.  Long  before  our 
race  had  wit  enough  to  classify  actions  as  pleasure- 
yielding  and  pain-yielding,  tree-life  and  cave-life  had 
equipped  it  with  instincts  which  are  still  alive. 
Then,  for  example,  were  laid  down  in  our  nervous 
apparatus  fear  reactions,  once  salutary,  but  now 
useless.  The  dread  of  the  dark,  of  loud  noises,  of 
open  places,  of  clammy  objects,  of  loneliness,  cannot 
now  be  interpreted  as  shrinkings  from  the  painful. 
Under  our  present  conditions  of  life  they  are  mean- 
ingless. 

Then  there  are  the  impulses.     Can  action  under 
the  spur  of  jealousy  or  anger  be  interpreted  as  a 
yielding  to  the  greatest  attraction?     Panics,  lynch- 
II  i6i 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ings,  and  riots  are  not  forms  of  pleasure-seeking,  but 
manifestations  of  fear,  hate,  or  blood-thirst. 

Again,  the  creature  whose  ancestors  ran  a  gaunt- 
let of  severe  tests  is  certain  to  be  energetic,  to  deploy 
its  powers  under  slight  stimulus.  If,  now,  the  seri- 
ous demands  of  existence  become  less  taxing,  the 
creature  will  relieve  itself  of  its  superabundant  en- 
ergy in  play  activities.  While  the  free  forth-flowing 
of  energy  yields  enjoyment,  and  the  obstruction  of  it 
causes  distress,  pleasure  is  not  really  the  object  of 
play.  Mere  gamboling  is  aimless,  its  cause  is  not  a 
gleam  in  front  but  a  thrust  from  behind.  In  sports 
and  games  the  object  is  not  pleasure,  but  a  feat,  a 
score,  a  triumph.  The  hedonist's  theory  would 
apply  to  a  race  of  canny  but  tired  beings. 

"But,"  it  may  be  urged,  "granting  that  many  of 
man's  original  promptings  are  not  hedonic,  will  he 
not,  when  he  has  reflected  upon  his  experiences,  seek 
to  repeat  the  pleasant  impressions  and  to  inhibit  such 
actions  as  entail  disagreeable  consequences?  Ap- 
plying the  sure  touchstones  of  pleasure  and  pain,  will 
he  not  free  himself  from  the  thraldom  of  instincts 
and  impulses,  and  mould  his  life  on  rational  lines  ?" 

This  assumes  that  the  action  of  reason  is  to  weed 
out  interests  so  far  as  they  do  not  justify  themselves 
as  pleasure-yielding.  But,  in  truth,  reason  creates 
interests  as  well  as  destroys  them.  In  its  restless 
explorations  it  comes  upon  alluring  problems. 
While  critical  minds  are  dissecting  to  death  old 
ideals,  creative  spirits  are  setting  up  new  goals. 
Hence  every  burst  of  intellectual  activity  is  pregnant 
162 


THE  SOCIAL  FORCES 

with  new  zests  and  enthusiasms.  As  they  mount 
above  the  plane  of  instinct  men  do  not  become  sim- 
ply more  canny  and  calculating.  Copernicus,  Pas- 
cal, Newton,  and  Darwin  were  not  arch-hedonists. 
Master-intellects,  like  Socrates  and  Bruno,  are  found 
sacrificing  themselves  for  their  ideals.  The  fact  is, 
reason  turned  inward  may  destroy  ideals,  but  turned 
upon  the  world  or  upon  men  it  kindles  fresh  inter- 
ests. It  may  be,  conscious  pleasure-seeking  marks 
the  morning  of  intelligence  rather  than  its  high  noon. 

Then  there  is  a  social  factor  to  be  considered.  In 
the  collective  mind  there  are  currents  which  carry  us 
far  out  of  our  natural  course.  We  like  what  others 
like,  covet  what  they  praise.  If  we  imbibe  admira- 
tion for  a  dexterity  or  a  virtue,  we  cannot  but  em- 
brace it  in  our  ideal  and  strive  to  realize  it.  If 
others  infect  us  with  a  valuation,  we  cannot  help  pur- 
suing the  thing  valued.  From  the  elite  of  a  people 
spread  feelings  and  opinions  about  the  goals  of  en- 
deavor, which  in  time  harden  into  race  ideals  and 
race  values.  The  rank  and  file  for  the  most  part  ac- 
cept these,  because  they  are  not  able  to  constitute 
goals  for  themselves.  So,  thanks  to  the  irony  of 
life,  it  may  come  to  pass  that  the  multitude  pursue, 
not  the  gratifications  proper  to  their  own  natures, 
but  the  gratifications  proper  to  the  natures  of  the 
influential  elite. 

There  is  no  denying,  then,  that  the  desires  of  men 
are  many.  Of  the  various  human  goals  we  can  af- 
firm just  one  thing:  they  shine.  To  afifirm  that  they 
shine  because  they  all  have  a  component  of  pleasure 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

is  to  go  too  far.    There  is  no  social  force ;  there  are 
social  forces. 

To  reject  the  formula  of  "greatest  pleasure  for 
least  pain"  is  not  to  attack  the  foundation  principle 
of  pure  economics,  namely,  greatest  utility  for  least 
disutility.  Material  goods  are  means,  not  ends. 
Economic  choices  relate  to  routes,  not  to  goals.  Of 
rival  goals  we  do  not  invariably  ask,  "Which  prom- 
ises the  most  pleasure  ?"  ;  but  of  the  possible  routes  to 
any  goal  we  do  ask,  "Which  is  the  easiest?"  What- 
ever be  his  goal,  the  rational  man  will  choose  the 
smoothest  path,  provide  in  the  cheapest  manner  such 
bridges  and  corduroy  as  may  be  necessary.  If  he 
has  not  means  enough  to  attain  all  his  ends  commodi- 
ously,  he  economizes  goods.  If  he  can  produce 
these  goods,  he  economizes  his  time  and  exertion. 
Hence,  his  choice  among  possible  materials,  proc- 
esses, occupations,  and  investments  conforms  to  a 
principle.  But  we  find  no  such  universal  principle 
determining  which,  among  competing  instincts,  im- 
pulses, ideals,  and  values  shall  prevail.  These  are, 
in  fact,  treated  as  incommensurable.  No  one  re- 
duces them  all  to  a  common  denominator. 

The  principle  of  economizing  any  requisite  that  is 
limited  in  quantity — material  resources,  time,  energy, 
etc. — can  be  observed  even  in  our  mode  of  gratifying 
the  higher  cravings.  The  "law  of  parsimony"^  is 
operative  when  the  devotee  seeks  to  become  en  rap- 
port with  his  deity  by  a  minimum  of  pious  exercises,, 
when  the  sportsman  expends  just  enough  effort  to 

*  Waid,  "Pure  Sociology,"  pp.  161-163. 
164 


THE  SOCIAL  FORCES 

win  the  points  in  the  game,  when  the  student  seeks 
out  the  teachers  and  texts  that  put  him  most  quickly 
in  possession  of  the  coveted  knowledge,  when  the 
philanthropist  takes  as  his  motto  "Help  the  poor  to 
help  themselves,"  when  the  parent  rears  the  least 
number  of  offspring  that  will  insure  him  the  sweet 
companionship  of  children. 

Coming  now  to  actual  classifications,  we  will  con- 
sider those  of  Small,  Ratzenhofer,  Ward,  and  Stuck- 
enberg. 

Professor  Small  classifies  human  cravings  as  de- 
sires for  health,  wealth,  sociability,  knowledge, 
beauty,  and  Tightness.^  This  grouping  appears  to 
be  defective  at  a  number  of  points.  Hunger  and 
love  are  specific  demands,  and  not  a  desire  for  health. 
Health,  moreover,  when  people  do  begin  to  care  for 
it,  is  valued,  not  as  an  end,  but  as  a  sine  qua  non  of 
all  satisfactions  whatsoever.  As  for  the  desire  for 
wealth,  it  is  secondary,  depending  upon  the  intensity 
of  those  cravings  which  cannot  well  be  satisfied 
without  the  aid  of  material  goods  or  services.  The 
"lordship  over  things"  which  Professor  Small  ad- 
vances as  a  primary  motive  to  acquisition  gratifies  an 
egotic  desire.  It  does  not  differ  in  principle  from 
the  lust  of  lordship  over  persons  (power)  or  lordship 
over  men's  admiration  (glory)  or  lordship  over 
men's  judgment  (influence).  Under  sociability  are 
lumped  together  desires  so  diverse  as  the  craving 
for  companionship,  and  the  eagerness  for  apprecia- 
tion, the  one  affective,  the  other  egotic. 

'^American  Journal  of  Sociology,  vol.  VI,  pp.  177-199. 
165 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

y  Ratzenhofer  has  employed  the  word  interest  for 
the  force,  whether  vital  or  psychic,  which  calls  out 
any  activity.  The  term  is  wide  enough  to  include 
function,  tropism,  reflex,  and  blind  impulse,  as  well 
as  conscious  desire.  He  distinguishes* — 
a)  The  race  interest,  i.  e.,  the  impulses  which  center  in 

the  reproductive  functions. 
h)   The  physiological  interest,  i.  e.,  hunger  and  thirst. 

With  the  rise  of  consciousness  other  interests  de- 
velop out  of  these  two  primitive  interests.  The  for- 
mer expands  into — 

c)  The  egotic  interest,  i.  e.,  the  entire  circle  of  self-regard- 

ing motives. 
The  latter  widens  into — 

d)  The  social  interest. 

In  proportion  as  the  lower  interests  are  sated,  the 
impetus  of  thought  awakens  a  feehng  of  dependence 
upon  the  infinite,  which  gives  rise  to — 

^    e)  The  transcendental  interest,  which  creates  religion  and 
philosophy. 

The  above  is  a  comprehensive  view  of  the  forces 
that  impel  living  beings,  but  it  is  not  the  best  classi- 
fication of  the  desires  at  work  in  human  societies.  It 
is  not  satisfactory  to  group  impulses  solely  with  ref- 
erence to  their  concrete  objects,  such  as  species, 
organism,  self,  society,  cosmos. 

Dr.  Ward,  who  has  done  more  than  anyone  else  to 
elucidate  the  social  forces,  makes  the  following 
classification^ : 

*  "Sociologische  Erkenntniss,"  pp.  54-66. 
'"Pure  Sociology,"  p.  261. 

166 


THE  SOCIAL  FORCES 


SI 


0^ 


(z< 


Ontogenetic  (  Positive,  attractive  (seeking  pleasure) 

Forces        J  Negative,  protective  (avoiding  pain) 
Phylogenetic  (  Direct,  sexual 

J^orces        J  Indirect,  consanguineal 


3  2 


Sociogenetic 
Forces 


'Moral  (seeking  the  safe  and  good) 

Esthetic  (seeking  the  beautiful) 

Intellectual  (seeking  the  useful  and 
true) 


For  the  purposes  of  philosophy  this  grouping  im- 
presses me  as  by  far  the  most  helpful  that  has  been 
made.  If  my  own  grouping  is  somew^hat  different, 
it  is  because  for  practical  use  in  sociology  I  prefer  a 
classification  based  more  immediately  upon  the  na- 
ture of  the  desires,  and  neglecting  the  functions  to 
which  they  prompt. 

Dr.  Stuckenberg  has  grouped  the  social  forces  as 
follows^ : 

I.    Fundamental. 

1.  The  economic. 

2.  The  political. 

II.    Constitutional. 

3.  The  egotic. 

4.  The  appetitive. 

5.  The  affectional. 

6.  The  recreative. 

^"Sociology,"  vol.  I,  p.  207. 

167 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

III.  Cultural. 

7.  The  aesthetic. 

8.  The  ethical. 

9.  The  religious. 
10.  The  intellectual. 

Without  the  ''fundamental"  forces  this  scheme 
would  be  excellent.  It  is  surely  an  error,  however, 
to  list  the  desire  for  wealth  among  the  original  social 
forces.  It  is,  in  fact,  clearly  derivative.  Avarice  is 
so  powerful  because  nearly  every  kind  of  craving 
sooner  or  later  puts  in  a  requisition  for  goods.  The 
worth  of  wealth  is  the  sum  of  all  the  furtherances 
we  receive  from  it  in  the  pursuit  of  our  ends.  The 
state  likewise  is  an  instrument  of  many  uses,  and  ap- 
peals to  no  one  group  of  desires.  The  specific  de- 
sires that  operate  in  the  sphere  of  government— the 
love  of  power  and  the  impatience  of  restraint — have 
other  spheres  of  manifestation,  and  cannot  properly 
be  termed  political.  They  are,  in  fact,  egotic.  For 
the  rest,  early  government  rises  out  of  fear — fear  of 
the  foe,  fear  of  the  marauder.  After  life  and  prop- 
erty have  become  secure,  the  state  is  utilized  for  the 
promotion  of  many  cultural  purposes,  so  that  nearly 
every  group  of  social  forces  gives  off  a  demand  for 
state  activity. 

Would  it  not  be  better  to  arrange  the  springs  of 
action  in  two  planes,  instead  of  forcing  them  into 
one  plane  ?  Desires  may  well  be  distinguished  from 
interests,  the  former  being  the  primary  forces  as 
they  well  up  in  consciousness,  the  latter  the  great 
complexes,  woven  of  multicolored  strands  of  desire, 
which  shape  society  and  make  history. 
168 


THE  SOCIAL  FORCES  ^ 

Desires  may  be  divided  into  natural  and  cultural, 
the  former  present  in  all  men,  the  latter  emerging 
clearly  only  after  man  has  made  some  gains  in  cul- 
ture.    The  natural  desires  may  be  grouped  into — 

a)  Appetitive.    Hunger,  thirst,  and  S€x-appetite. 

b)  Hedonic.    Fear,  aversion  to  pain,  love  of  warmth,  ease, 

and  sensuous  pleasure. 

c)  Egotic.    These  are  demands  of  the  self  rather  than  of 

the  organism.  They  include  shame,  vanity,  pride, 
envy,  love  of  liberty,  of  power,  and  of  glory.  The 
type  of  this  class  is  ambition. 

d)  Affective.    Desires   that  terminate   upon  others:   sym- 

pathy, sociability,  love,  hate,  spite,  jealousy,  anger,  re- 
venge. 

e)  Recreative.     Play  impulses,  love  of  self-expression. 

The  cultural  desires,  which  are  clearly  differen- 
tiated only  in  culture  men  are — 

/)  Religious.     Yearning  for  those  states  of  swimming  or 

unconditioned  consciousness  represented  by  the  relig- 

ous  ecstasy.^ 
g)  Ethical.     Love  of  fair  play,  sense  of  justice. 
h)  ^Esthetic.     Desire  for  the  pleasures  of  perception,  i.  e., 

for  enjoyment  of  "the  beautiful." 
i)  Intellectual.     Curiosity,  love  of  knowing,  of  learning,  and 

of  imparting. 

While  the  study  of  the  natural  wants  belongs  to 
anthropology,  the  development  of  cultural  desires  in 
connection  with  association  and  the  presence  of  cul- 
ture devolves  upon  sociology.     I  pass  the  topic  here 

*  No  one  who  has  seen  people  "getting  happy"  at  a  camp-meeting  will 
doubt  the  reality  or  the  seductiveness  of  such  states.  James.  Varieties 
of  Religious  Experience,  studies  these  in  the  scientific  spirit.  Brinton. 
The  Religion  of  Primitive  Peoples,  raises  a  doubt  if  these  cravings  are 
exclusively  cultural. 

169 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

only  because  it  has  been  adequately  treated  by 
others.^ 

There  are  certain  huge  complexes  of  goods  which 
serve  as  means  to  the  satisfaction  of  a  variety  of 
wants.  They  are  Wealth,  Government,  Religion, 
and  Knowledge.  In  respect  to  these  the  various 
elementary  social  forces  therefore  give  off  impulses 
which  run  together  and  form  the  economic,  political, 
religious,  and  intellectual  interests,  which  constitute 
in  effect  the  chief  history-making  forces. 

The  economic  interest  finds  its  tap-root  in  the 
pangs  of  hunger  and  cold.  These,  being  a  direct 
demand  for  material  goods,  prompt  men  to  wealth- 
getting  activities.  There  is,  however,  in  the  end  no 
class  of  cravings  which  may  not  lay  claim  to  goods, 
and  thus  whet  greed  to  a  keener  edge.  When  per- 
sonal emulation  takes  the  form  of  "conspicuous 
waste,"  the  egotic  desires  prompt  to  acquisition. 
When  gold  "gilds  the  straitened  forehead  of  the 
fool,"  it  is  prized  as  the  means  of  winning  the  cov- 
eted mate.  When  entertainment  is  expensive, 
money  is  sought  to  oil  the  wheels  of  social  inter- 
course. When  the  gods  respect  persons,  men  will 
seek  the  wherewithal  for  costly  sacrifices  and  sanctu- 
aries. When  wealth  gives  lordship,  the  ambitious 
will  rowel  hard  in  the  pursuit  of  fortune.  When 
the  artist  works  for  the  highest  bidder,  the  beauty- 
lover  will  set  himself  to  money-making.  Whenever 
Dives  enjoys  greater   social   consideration,   stands 

*  Vierkandt,     "Naturvolker    und     Kulturvolker."      Stucken- 
berg,  "Sociology,"  vol.  I,  ch.  XIII. 
170 


THE  SOCIAL  FORCES 

higher  with  the  Unseen,  is  a  more  formidable  suitor, 
finds  bigger  meshes  in  the  law,  and  counts  as  a 
worthier  person  than  the  better  man  with  the  lighter 
purse,  all  the  streams  of  desire  pour  into  one  chan- 
nel, and  avarice  swells  to  monstrous  proportions. 

In  general,  the  itch  for  wealth  varies  directly  with 
its  capacity  to  promote  the  satisfaction  of  the  various 
desires.  Since  this  capacity  varies  from  place  to 
place  and  from  age  to  age,  the  value  of  zvealth  is  sub- 
ject to  rise  and  fall. 

The  assertion  that  wealth  in  general  is  liable  to 
appreciate  or  depreciate  seems  a  hard  saying.  Have 
we  not  been  taught  there  can  be  no  general  rise  or 
fall  in  exchange  values?  Against  what,  indeed, 
shall  wealth  be  measured?  Where  are  the  markets 
which  register  its  fluctuations? 

But  such  markets  exist,  always  have  existed.  Are 
there  not  streets  where  woman's  virtue  is  sold  ?  Are 
there  not  commonwealths  where  there  is  a  ruling 
price  for  votes  ?  Do  not  the  comparative  rewards  of 
occupations  indicate  what  inducements  will  over- 
come the  love  of  independence,  of  safety,  of  good  re- 
pute ?  We  see  men  sacrificing  health,  or  leisure,  or 
family  life,  or  offspring,  or  friends,  or  liberty,  or 
honor,  or  truth,  for  gain.  The  volume  of  such  spir- 
itual goods  Mammon  can  lure  into  the  market  meas- 
ures the  power  of  money.  By  the  choices  men  make 
in  such  cases  and  by  the  judgment  others  pass  upon 
such  choices  we  can  ascertain  what  is  the  social  esti- 
mate of  wealth.  When  gold  cannot  shake  the  noble- 
man's pride  of  caste,  the  statesman's  patriotism,  the 

171 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

soldier's  honor,  the  wife's  fideUty,  the  official's  sense 
of  duty,  or  the  artist's  devotion  to  his  ideal,  wealth 
is  cheap.  But  when  maidens  yield  themselves  to 
senile  moneybags,  youths  swarm  about  the  unat- 
tractive heiress,  judges  take  bribes,  experts  sell  their 
opinions  to  the  highest  bidder,  and  genius  champions 
the  cause  it  does  not  believe  in,  wealth  is  rated  high. 

The  fluctuations  in  the  market  where  spiritual 
goods  are  sacrificed  for  material  goods  are  com- 
monly supposed  to  originate  on  the  side  of  the  higher 
goods.  The  material  wants,  it  is  reasoned,  partake 
of  the  stability  of  the  organism  itself.  It  is  the  as- 
pirations for  the  good,  the  true,  and  the  beautiful 
that  are  variable. 

This  interpretation  is  probably  wrong.  Usually 
it  is  the  esteem  of  wealth  that  fluctuates  and  not  the 
esteem  of  health,  or  liberty,  or  honor.  These  are 
fundamentals  and  therefore  relatively  stable.  Wan- 
tonness, sycophancy,  and  subserviency  violate  per- 
sonal instincts.  Hypocrisy,  fraud,  and  espionage 
outrage  natural  feelings  and  come  about  as  hard  one 
age  as  another.  The  loathing  they  inspire  probably 
varies  little  from  fathers  to  sons. 

In  fact,  we  do  not  need  to  explain  the  zigzag 
course  of  the  market  for  spiritual  goods  by  assum- 
ing a  shifting  in  the  stress  of  human  wants.  Since 
wealth  is  a  means,  the  importance  of  wealth  must 
constantly  fluctuate  because  of  changes  in  the  power 
of  material  goods  to  gratify  desire. 

These  result  from  changes  in  technique  or  in  opin- 
ion. 

172 


THE  SOCIAL  FORCES 

Thus  the  introduction  of  perfumes  and  spices 
gave  new  sensuous  gratifications,  spirituous  liquors 
provided  a  short-cut  to  social  pleasure,  armor  opened 
a  way  to  security,  the  breaking  of  the  horse  to  sad- 
dle provided  a  form  of  dignified  locomotion.  The 
coming  in  of  cattle  enabled  heads  of  kine  to  be  tro- 
phies as  well  as  scalp-locks  and  captives.  The  dis- 
covery of  medicaments  gave  new  weapons  against 
disease.  The  origination  of  art  products  provided 
new  embodiments  of  beauty.  The  art  of  embalm- 
ing met  in  a  way  the  longing  for  immortality.  Me- 
morial tablets,  urns,  and  monuments  oflPered  them- 
selves to  the  same  need.  Since  by  exchange  any 
good  may  be  converted  into  any  other,  each  of  these 
changes  adds  to  the  desirability  of  wealth-in- 
general. 

It  is,  however,  shif tings  of  custom  and  opinion 
that  have  most  affected  the  importance  of  material 
goods.  The  custom  of  wife-purchase,  the  system  of 
wergeld  or  money  compensation  for  crimes,  the  ac- 
ceptance of  damages  as  a  salve  for  injury,  the  shift- 
ing of  prestige  from  heads,  scalps,  and  bear's  claws 
to  herds,  acres,  and  bonds,  the  reliance  upon  clothing 
instead  of  tattooing  as  a  means  of  charming  the  op- 
posite sex,  the  belief  that  burnt-offerings  win  the 
favor  of  the  gods  or  that  masses  deliver  the  soul 
from  purgatory,  the  decline  of  prophetism,  the  pass- 
ing of  political  power  from  the  Elders  or  the  Fight- 
ers to  the  Wealthy,  the  decay  of  the  distinction  be- 
tween "noble"  and  "mean"  employments  or  sources 
of  wealth,  the  jrielding  of  patrician  ranks  to  the  pres- 

173 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

sure  of  the  new-rich,  the  obliterating  of  caste  by 
class,  the  lapsing  of  birth  as  a  ground  of  social  supe- 
riority, the  gaining  of  "conspicuous  consumption" 
on  "conspicuous  leisure"  as  a  means  of  good  repute, 
the  enlistment  of  the  artist  in  the  service  of  Croesus 
instead  of  the  service  of  temple  or  church — these 
have  at  various  times  augmented  the  power  of 
wealth  and  therewith  the  craving  for  it. 

There  are  other  movements  which  have  shorn  lucre 
of  some  of  its  brute  might,  and  exalted  the  worth  of 
personal  merit  or  effort.  The  resumption  of  choice 
by  women,  the  rise  of  the  romantic  ideal,  the  custom 
of  courtship,  and  the  dispensing  with  the  "marriage 
portion"  have  unsealed  the  well-nigh  choked-up 
spring  of  sex-love.  "Justification  by  faith,"  the  sup- 
pression of  masses,  pilgrimages,  and  indulgences, 
the  dispensing  with  altar  and  image,  the  open  Bible, 
the  lay  chalice,  and  the  unadorned  "meeting  house" 
have  done  much  to  rout  commercialism  from  relig- 
ion. The  protection  of  the  law  is  no  longer  for 
those  only  who  can  pay  for  it.  The  courts  of  justice 
need  no  longer  be  supported  by  the  fees  of  suitors. 
Public  hospitals  and  free  dispensaries  socialize  the 
healing  art.  The  printing-press  and  the  free  library 
have  democratized  the  sweets  of  literature.  The 
abolition  of  hireling  armies,  of  imprisonment  for 
debt,  of  child  labor,  and  of  the  property  suffrage  are 
so  many  dykes  reclaiming  smiling  stretches  from  the 
dreary^  waste  of  commercialism.  :  The  struggle  is 
endless,  for  while  the  growth  of  personality  is  limit- 
174 


THE  SOCIAL  FORCES 

ing  the  power  of  the  purse  on  the  one  side,  the  march 
of  technique  is  broadening  it  on  the  other. 

A  lesser  derivative  interest  is  the  political.  Like 
wealth,  a  center  of  power  is  valued  because  it  pro- 
motes many  kinds  of  satisfactions.  The  earlier 
state-building  forces  are  Greed  and  Fear,  that  is, 
groups  ally  themselves  in  order  to  make  or  to  resist 
attack.  People  dread  the  enemy,  and  hence  cheer- 
fully submit  to  the  yoke  of  the  war-leader.  They 
tremble  before  the  predatory,  and  therefore  rally 
around  a  power  that  can  make  law  respected. 
These  fear  forces  are  strongly  seconded  by  the  love 
of  power  which  impels  the  masterful  to  supply  more 
government  than  is  needed.  In  time  the  absolute 
state  arises  in  all  its  grimness,  and  men  start  back  in 
affright  before  the  Frankenstein  they  have  created. 
There  ensues  a  struggle  to  wrest  from  government 
the  guarantees  of  individual  liberties  and  rights.  Fi- 
nally, it  is  recognized  how  much  the  distribution  of 
wealth  in  an  era  of  social  production  depends  upon 
the  state,  and  the  people  grapple  with  the  classes  for 
the  mastery  of  power.  During  these  four  phases — 
military,  civil,  liberal,  and  social — of  the  political  in- 
terest, while  men  are  pouring  out  their  blood  and 
treasure,  first  to  create  and  then  to  control  the  state, 
their  groupings  will  depend  much  on  their  political 
feelings  and  politics  will  be  a  maker  of  history. 

Since  the  feeling  for  the  state  is  derivative,  it  varies 
with  the  importance  of  what  the  state  does.  Loy- 
alty touches  its  zenith  when  blows  ring  harmless  on 
the  broad  shield  the   state  holds  over  its  people. 

175 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

The  flame  of  patriotism  rises  or  sinks  with  the  ap- 
proach or  retreat  of  violence.  The  state,  moreover, 
enHsts  strong  affections  when  it  is  the  center  of  all 
kinds  of  cooperation  and  the  active  promoter  of 
every  form  of  culture.  But  with  the  triumph  of 
peace,  order,  individual  liberty,  and  popular  gov- 
ernment, the  old  fears  and  passions  are  forgotten. 
The  industrial  organization  disengages  itself  from 
the  political.  The  promotion  of  culture  devolves  to 
a  considerable  degree  upon  free  associations.  Relig- 
ion relies  for  support  on  free-will  offerings.  Public 
opinion  comes  to  be  the  great  regulator  of  conduct. 
The  non-political  side  of  society  comes  forward, 
political  concern  dies  down,  and  the  state  no  longer 
plays  a  star  part  in  the  drama  of  history. 

The  religious  interest  is  chiefly  derivative.  It 
contains,  to  be  sure,  an  original  factor  in  the  crav- 
ing for  certain  ecstatic  experiences.  Its  prominence 
in  the  concern  of  mankind  cannot,  however,  be  laid 
to  this  craving.  Like  wealth  and  like  government, 
religion  has  spread  far  beyond  its  first  occasion,  and 
insinuated  itself  into  many  channels  of  desire.  The 
earliest  non-religious  force  behind  it  is  fear.  Pri- 
mos  in  orbe  deos  fecit  timor.  After  man  has  by  pro- 
pitiation of  the  unseen  powers  assured  his  personal 
safety,  he  seeks  to  utilize  them.  He  covenants  with 
them  that  for  regular  prayer  and  sacrifice  they  shall 
grant  increase  and  prosperity.  The  gods  acquire 
economic  importance.  As  they  become  more  fully 
domesticated,  they  are  approached  with  confidence, 
and  worship  is  prompted  by  love  and  gratitude  as 
176 


THE  SOCIAL  FORCES 

well  as  by  hope  of  benefits.  With  the  advent  of 
public  worship  religious  feasts  endear  themselves  as 
occasions  for  "orgiastic  gladness"  ^nd  "hilarious 
revelry."  In  the  phallic  cults  they  are  prized  as 
stimuli  to  sexual  desire.  Moreover,  the  common 
worship  of  the  gods  for  public  ends  makes  them 
props  of  order,  bulwarks  of  family,  property,  and 
state.  When  the  ethical  sense  becomes  active,  the 
gods  come  to  be  thought  of  as  deliverers  from  temp- 
tation rather  than  from  misfortune.  One  craves 
from  them  a  clean  heart  rather  than  a  fat  harvest. 
Philosophy  then  blends  with  the  theory  of  the  gods 
and  religion  seeks  to  answer  the  Why?  Whence? 
and  Whither?  of  the  restless  intellect.  In  the  priest- 
ly cults  religion  becomes  a  stepping-stone  to  power, 
and  so  enlists  ambition  Then  the  fear  of  a  too- 
masterful  church  seizes  upon  men  and  they  fervently 
embrace  the  more  spiritual  forms  of  faith  as  vessels 
of  deliverance. 

Thus  religion  has  run  the  whole  gamut  of  the 
passions.  It  has  been  the  storm-center  of  feeling. 
Fear,  greed,  lust,  sociability,  gratitude,  ambition,  the 
instinct  for  liberty,  the  ethical  impulses,  and  the 
intellectual  yearnings  have,  at  one  time  or  another, 
cooperated  with  the  specific  religious  craving  to 
magnify  religion  to  the  prodigious  dimensions  of  a 
history-making  force. 

The  religious  interest  cannot  but  wax  and  wane 
with  the  adequacy  of  religion  to  meet  the  various 
needs  of  men.  The  gods  are  remembered  in  danger, 
forgotten  in  prosperity.     They  are  valued  as  a  prop 

12  177 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

when  the  state  rests  on  authority,  discarded  when 
government  is  founded  on  consent.  They  are  relied 
on  to  safeguard  rights  only  so  long  as  Justice  holds 
no  sword.  Every  step  in  the  mastery  of  nature  and 
the  control  of  men  blunts  the  sense  of  dependence  on 
the  Unseen.  Security  from  violence,  or  plague,  or 
future  torment  lessens  the  poignancy  of  the  religious 
feeling.  As  people  come  to  look  to  the  policeman 
for  protection,  to  the  physician  for  healing,  to  the 
inventor  for  victory,  and  to  themselves  for  worldly 
success,  their  zeal  in  worship  abates.  Such  slough- 
ings  leave  religion  purer  and  nobler,  no  doubt,  but 
less  able  to  control  the  destiny  of  society.  Its  new 
channel  is  deeper  than  the  old,  but  far  narrower. 

The  intellectual  interest  is  likewise  a  blend  of  vari- 
ous desires.  Had  it  been  restricted  to  its  primitive 
components,  its  role  would  have  been  insignificant. 
But  these  cravings  have  been  reinforced  from  sev- 
eral quarters.  In  the  first  place,  intellectual  subtlety, 
always  a  coveted  form  of  prowess,  gratifies  the 
egotic  desires.  Even  in  the  early  stages  of  culture  a 
reputation  for  extraordinary  wisdom  gives  the  sage 
fame,  power,  and  wealth.  Later,  learning  confers 
distinction  and  is  not  without  efficacy  in  bread-win- 
ning and  mate-winning.  At  every  social  level, 
moreover,  there  is  a  standard  of  intelligence  to  be 
lived  up  to  as  well  as  a  standard  of  decent  consump- 
tion. As  for  real  knowledge,  it  has  always  been 
means  as  well  as  end.  The  sciences  were  first  cul- 
tivated as  badges  of  leisure-class  superiority.  Later 
they  were  fostered  because  they  allayed  the  dread 
178 


THE  SOCIAL  FORCES 

of  disease,  banished  fear  of  the  supernatural,  as- 
suaged pain,  prolonged  life,  brought  victory,  and 
vastly  expanded  the  production  of  wealth.  They 
were  cultivated,  in  short,  because  knowledge  is 
power.  When,  moreover,  we  remember  the  mete- 
oric career  of  speculative  ideas  which,  besides 
moulding  lives  and  shaping  institutions,  have  knit 
men  together  or  marshaled  them  into  hostile  camps, 
the  intellectual  interest  must  be  owned  to  be  a  fac- 
tor m  history  of  no  mean  importance. 

Like  the  rest  the  intellectual  interest  has  its  ups 
and  downs.  It  wanes  as  men  lose  faith  in  the  effi- 
cacy of  speculative  ideas  and  come  to  put  their  trust 
in  labor  or  thrift.  If  "things  are  in  the  saddle,"  it 
is  because  the  ideologies  have  not  kept  their  prom- 
ises. On  the  other  hand,  the  triumphs  of  science 
lead  men  to  value  knowledge  rather  than  religion  or 
power.  Science  grants  the  health  vainly  besought 
by  the  worshiper;  it  turns  aside  the  pestilence;  it 
insures  the  husbandman  his  increase;  it  delivers 
from  enemies.  The  decline  of  violence  has,  no 
doubt,  done  much  to  put  the  big  brain  above  the 
strong  arm,  but  even  war  is  coming  to  be  a  test  of 
intelligence  rather  than  a  test  of  brute  strength. 
Knowledge  and  money,  in  other  words.  Science  and 
Wealth,  seem  likely  to  become  the  heirs  of  the  dying 
powers  of  the  past. 

Since  food,  sex,  and  safety  are  the  most  imperious, 
persistent,  and  universal  wants  of  man,  why,  it  may 
be  asked,  does  not  the  sex-desire  announce  itself  in 

179 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

history  in  some  dramatic  fashion  ?    Why  has  no  one 
offered  a  ''genesic"  interpretation  of  history? 

The  explanation  seems  to  be  that  the  sex-propen- 
sity does  not  group  or  array  men.  It  embroils  indi- 
viduals (witness  the  ''crimes  of  passion")  but  not 
tribes, .  classes,  or  nations.  Unlike  greed,  it  rarely 
precipitates  mass  collisions.  Unlike  fear,  it  does  not 
inspire  men  to  combined  effort.  Satisfied  by  the 
union  of  the  sex-couple,  love,  unlike  hunger,  does  not 
give  rise  to  cooperations,  trades,  and  professions,  the 
social  division  of  labor.  Nevertheless,  on  those  rare 
occasions  when  they  are  summed  together,  the  sex- 
desires  constitute  a  stupendous  social  force.  The 
most  striking  proof  of  this  is  the  imposing  of  the 
monogamic  relation  upon  the  entire  membership  of 
society.  The  suppression  of  polygamy  marks  the 
triumph  of  the  sex-needs  of  the  many  over  the 
claims  of  the  few,  and  is,  beyond  question,  the  great- 
est anti-monopoly  achievement  on  record.  Perhaps 
the  broadest  encroachment  ever  made  on  the  "right 
of  the  strongest"  is  the  obliging  of  the  rich  and 
powerful  to  content  themselves  with  one  wife. 
r  The  distinction  we  have  drawn  between  original 
and  derivative  social  forces  gives  us  a  vantage-point 
from  which  to  interpret  the  interpretations  of  his- 
tory. We  have  seen  that  it  is  a  mistake  to  lay  the 
shif tings  of  interest  to  be  discerned  in  the  life  of  a 
people  solely  to  the  evolution  of  wants.  Oftener 
these  shif  tings  are  due  to  a  disturbance  in  the  rela- 
tion of  means  to  end,  to  a  change  in  the  capacity  of 
the  great  secondary  goods  to  promote  the-  satisfac- 
i8o 


THE  SOCIAL  FORCES 

tion  of  desires.  Now,  the  moment  the  state  reaches 
its  broadest  significance,  the  military-poHtical  inter- 
est seems  to  be  the  swaying  force  in  history.  The 
moment  religion  reaches  its  broadest  significance, 
the  rehgious  interest  appears  as  the  chief  welder  or 
sunderer  of  men.  Let  these  great  interests  decay, 
and  other  interests  come  forward  and  grasp  the  scep- 
ter they  let  fall.  It  happens  that  in  our  time  certain 
well-understood  influences  have  weakened  the  polit- 
ical and  religious  interests,  and  thereby  thrown  into 
bold  relief  the  other  interests,  chief  among  which 
is  the  economic.  The  philosophy  of  wealth  is  hencey 
the  main  key  to  the  interpretation  of  contemporary 
life.  On  the  strength  of  its  success  here,  Economism 
is  now  declared  to  be  the  "open  sesame"  of  the 
locked  chambers  of  the  past,  the  one  magic  formula 
for  the  interpretation  of  history.  Its  only  rival  to- 
day is  Intellectualism,  the  doctrine  that  makes  the 
knowledge  and  beliefs  of  each  age  the  pivot  of  its 
entire  social  life.  In  my  view  nothing  can  rescue 
us  from  these  one-sided  theories  save  a  knowledge 
of  human  wants  and  a  recognition  of  the  great  va- 
riety of  the  springs  that  incite  -men  to  action.  The 
corner-stone  of  sociology  must  he  a  sound  doctrine  ' 
of  the  social  forces. 


i8i 


VIII 

THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE' 

^  It  is  clear  that  along  with  the  organic  analogy  we 
must  give  up  the  time-honored  division  into  social 
anatomy,  social  physiology,  and  social  psychology. 
Since  there  is  no  social  cadaver  to  dissect,  why  use 
the  term  "anatomy,"  which  refers  to  the  knowledge 
gained  by  the  simple  "cutting  up"  (dva  rofieiv)  of 
a  body  ?  Say  rather  social  morphology,  which  will 
describe,  not  only  human  relations  and  groupings, 
but  also  their  mutations  in  the  course  of  time — their 
embryology,  so  to  speak.  Why  apply  the  term 
"physiology"  to  the  description  of  processes  and 
products  that  are  in  no  wise  physical  ?  The  fact  that 
such  interactions  as  conflict  and  competition  involve 
something  more  than  the  action  of  mind  on  mind 
need  not  hinder  us  from  recognizing  that  what  the 
organicists  call  "function"  or  "life"  in  society  is  es- 
sentially psychical  and  naturally  becomes  the  sub- 
ject-matter of  social  psychology.  As  for  social 
pathology,  it  cannot  become  a  branch  of  science  un- 
til we  have  a  sure  touchstone  for  distinguishing  the 
normal  from  the  abnormal  in  society.  So  long  as 
divorce  and  lynching  and  political  crime  and  the 
trust  movement  lend  themselves  to  precisely  opposite 
interpretations,  there  is  no  firm  line  to  be  drawn  be- 

*  Vide  The  American  Journal  of  Sociology,  May,  July  and 
September,  1904. 

182 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

tween  social  health  and  social  disease.  Each  school 
of  thought  has  its  own  way  of  diagnosing  the  so- 
cially morbid,  and  no  objective  tests  have  yet  been 
agreed  on. 

C  On  mounting  from  the  plane  of  description  to 
that  of  theory,  it  becomes  possible  to  bisect  sociology 
into  social  statics  and  social  dynamics.  This  divi- 
sion has  usually  been  made  to  hinge  on  the  purely 
formal  contrast  of  coexistence  and  succession.  A 
study  of  cross-sections  or  flash-light  pictures  of  so- 
ciety would  show  what  social  structures  belong  to- 
gether— are  congruous.  The  comparison  of  series 
of  such  states  in  many  different  societies  would  dis- 
close regularities  of  succession.  If  this  were  so, 
the  cross-section  of  a  society  in  feverish  transforma- 
tion would  be  as  instructive  as  any  other,  seeing 
that  order  can  always  be  considered  apart  from 
movement.  In  point  of  fact,  however,  such  a  so- 
ciety would  not  present  a  system  of  mutually  deter- 
mining parts  and  interdependent  activities,  i.  e.,  an 
"order,"  but  would  disclose  many  incongruities. 
Statical  laws  cannot  be  discovered  until  an  equi- 
librium has  been  reached,  i.  e.,  until  time  has  per- 
mitted the  inner  affinities  and  repugnances  of  insti- 
tutions to  work  themselves  out.  But  a  society  that 
keeps  in  balance  is  ruled  by  forces  and  activities 
quite  different  from  those  that  dominate  a  highly 
progressive  community.  The  distinction,  there- 
fore, between  social  statics  and  social  dynamics,  far 
from  being  based  on  mere  logic,  reaches  dowa  to  a 
distinction  in  subject  matter. 

183 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

In  every  society  are  certain  factors,  such  as  re- 
ligion, government,  custom,  lazv,  and  ceremony, 
which  are  actively  static,  inasmuch  as  they  resist 
structural  change  of  every  sort.  Language,  litera- 
ture, art,  industry,  education,  and  opinion  are  pas- 

j  sively  static — or  shall  I  say  neutral  ? — lending  them- 
selves indifferently  to  the  agencies  of  stagnation  and 
to  those  of  changejj  In  strong  contrast  are  the  dy- 
namic factors,  such  as  domestication,  geographical 
discovery,  exploration,  migration,  acclimatization, 
war,  conquest,  race-crossing,  commerce,  travel,  in- 
vention, scientific  discovery,  prophetism,  and  free 
thought.  The  professionals  of  law,  government, 
and  religion  are  apt  to  hate  and  belittle  these  dy- 
namic factors.  Nor  are  they  beloved  of  the  masses, 
as  are  the  great  conservative  institutions.  Popular 
affections  do  not  twine  about  them  as  about  church 
and  state.  Race  intermarriage,  foreign  influence, 
science,  free  thought,  and  prophetism  have  usually 
been  looked  at  askance.  Men  always  consider  re- 
ligion and  government  as  infinitely  more  precious 

^than  discovery  and  invention.  This  division  into 
statics  and  dynamics  is  founded,  then,  not  simply 
on  the  distinction  between  order  and  movement, 
relations  of  coexistence  and  those  of  succession,  but 
as  well  on  the  broad  contrast  between  the  forces 
and  activities  that  make  for  equilibrium  and  those 
which  make  for  change.   ^ 

!  \  The  point  needs  to  be  emphasized  that  social  dy- 
I  namics  is  concerned  with  change  rather  than  evolu- 
V  184 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

Hon.  The  term  ^'evolution,"  while  very  properly 
calling  attention  to  the  continuity  of  social  change 
and  to  resident  forces  as  causing  change,  is  apt  to 
convey  the  idea  that  the  series  of  social  changes  is 
the  mere  unfolding  of  characters  pre-formed  in  the 
very  germ  or  bud  of  society.  This  idea  is  mislead- 
ing and  should  be  avoided.  It  is  unsafe  to  assume  ^ 
that  the  succession  of  social  changes  is  predeter- 
mined, and  that  accidental,  extraneous,  and  historic 
events  and  influences  do  not  count. 

Again,  it  is  essential  not  to  identify  social  dy- 
namics with  the  theory  of  social  progress.     The  pro- 
motion of  progress  is,  of  course,  our  greatest  prac-   ^ 
tical  concern,  but  the  true  cleavage  between  social  ' 
statics  and  social  dynamics  turns  on  the  distinction   . 
between  persistence  and   change^     Change   means 
any  qualitative  variation,  whereas  progress  means 
amelioration,   perfectionment.     The    one   is   move- 
ment ;  the  other  is  movement  in  the  direction  of  ad- 
vantage.    Progress   is  better   adaptation  to   given 
conditions.     Change   may   be   adaptation — at   first, 
perhaps,  very  imperfect — to  new  conditions. 

The  biologist  can  assure  himself  whether  a  given 
variation  is  a  progress  by  observing  if  it  leaves  the 
creature  better  able  to  survive.  The  sociologist, 
alas,  has  no  such  simple  practical  test.  A  society 
is  not  solidary  to  anything  like  the  degree  that  most 
organisms  are,  and  it  is  not  so  incessantly  pitted 
against  other  societies.  As  regards  the  eflfects  on 
its  members,  we  find  any  number  of  institutional 
changes  which  are  progress  from  the  standpoint  of 

i8s 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

one  sex,  class,  race,  or  local  group,  but  spell  regress 
for  another  sex,  class,  race,  or  local  group.  Nor  is 
it  easy  to  characterize  them  from  the  view-point 
of  "society  as  a  whole,"  for  it  is  by  no  means  clear 
what  is  best  for  "society  as  a  whole."  j^ach  of  us 
considers  a  change  progressive  when  it  advances 
society  toward  his  ideal.  But  one  man's  ideal  is 
freedom,  while  another's  is  order ;  one  man  borrows 
from  biology  the  criterion  of  differentiation,  while 
another  imports  from  psychology  the  idea  of  har- 
mony ;  one  man's  touchstone  is  the  happiness  of  the 
many,  while  another's  is  the  perfecting  of  the  su- 
perior few.  It  is,  therefore,  hopeless  as  yet  to  look 
for  a  test  of  progress  that  shall  be  objective  and 
valid  for  all.  Since  change  is  a  matter  of  observa- 
/tion,  whereas  progress  is  a  matter  of  judgment  in- 
volving the  application  of  a  subjective  standard, 
those  who  desire  to  see  sociology  a  true  science  are 
justified  m  insisting  that  social  dynamics  deal  with 
the  factors  and  manner,  not  of  social  progress  mere- 
.  ly,  but  of  social  change?} 

In  the  arts  we  ask  if  the  new  thing  is  more  useful 
than  the  old ;  in  the  sciences  we  ask  if  the  new  doc- 
trine brings  us  nearer  the  truth.  But  there  are  other 
kinds  of  change  for  which  there  is  no  sure  test.  In 
Rome  during  most  of  the  imperial  period  that  pro- 
gress which  flows  from  the  advance  of  technique 
and  knowledge  was  almost  unknown.  Says  Seeck  '^ 
From   Augustus   to   Diocletian    the    equipment   of  the 

*  "Geschichte  des  Untergangs  der  antiken  Welt,"  vol.  I,  pp. 
271-2. 

186 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

legionary  remained  the  same.  No  improvement  of  tactics, 
no  new  means  of  warfare,  was  developed  in  the  course  of 

three   centuries Neither   in   agriculture  nor   in 

technique  nor  in  administration  does  a  single  new  idea  of 
any  significance  come  to  light  after  the  first  century.  Liter- 
ature and  art,  too,  are  confined  to  a  sterile  imitation  which 

becomes  ever  more  empty  and  feeble The  Neo- 

Platonic  philosophy  and  the  development  of  Christian 
dogma  are  the  only  achievements  which  relieve  this  era 
from  complete  futility. 

Yet  these  barren  ages  are  full  of  social  changes 
which  are  richly  instructive  as  to  the  forces  that 
lurk  in  the  bosom  of  society.  Why,  after  the  gulf 
between  Romans  and  provincials  had  been  filled  in, 
did  a  chasm  open  between  honestiores  and  humil- 
tores  f  Why  did  slaves  give  place  to  coloni  and  ad- 
scripti  glebaef  Why  did  the  law  fetter  the  worker 
to  his  father's  occupation?  Why  did  taxes  come 
to  be  paid  in  kind?  Why  did  the  petty  landowner 
voluntarily  yield  up  his  holding  to  some  powerful 
proprietor  in  order  to  receive  it  back  on  a  feudal 
tenure  ?  Why  did  gladiatorial  shows  cease  ?  What 
influence  lifted  the  "overseer"  of  the  early  Christian 
community  to  the  lofty  chair  of  the  episcopus  or 
bishop?  What  was  it  that  elevated  the  bishop  of 
Rome  to  the  papal  throne  ?  How  can  the  rise  of  the 
monastic  movement  be  explained?  Surely  the 
forces  here  at  work  should  figure  in  a  theory  of  so- 
cial dynamics ! 

When  a  mammal  thrust  northward  gets  a  heavier 
coat  of  hair,  or  a  bird  acquires  the  nest-building 
instinct  with  the  advent  of  a  rodent  that  destroys 

187 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

her  eggs  on  the  ground,  we  have  a  case  of  adapUh- 
tion.  Now,  this  way  of  interpreting  change  is  be- 
coming ever  more  helpful  to  the  student  of  society. 
The  substitution  of  iron  for  wood  is  a  progress  if 
some  Tubal  Cain  has  made  iron  cheaper,  an  adapta- 
tion if  deforestation  has  made  wood  dearer.  A 
vegetarian  movement  may  signify  .  either  that  the 
art  of  preparing  cereal  foods  is  advancing,  or  that 
over-population  is  making  land  too  valuable  for  the 
growing  of  animal  food.  Among  herdsmen  it  is 
only  the  lash  of  poverty  that  makes  anyone  endure 
the  drudgery  of  tillage  and  the  cultivation  of  the 
soil  presents  itself,  not  as  a  progress,  but  as  an  adap- 
tation to  the  pressure  of  numbers. 

Movements  that  seem  regressive  are  equally  am- 
biguous. Miiijtarism  is  hardly  a  regress  when  a 
people  finds  itself  menaced  by  the  aproach  of  an  ag- 
gressive neighbor.  The  Asiaticization  of  govern- 
ment under  Diocletian  and  his  successors,  hitherto 
looked  upon  as  a  sure  symptom  of  degeneration, 
was  a  consequence  of  the  filling  up  of  the  depopu- 
lated parts  of  the  empire  with  barbarians  hard  to 
keep  in  order  and  very  susceptible  to  pomps  and 
ceremonies.  The  English  viceroy  is  to-day  modify- 
ing the  government  of  India  in  the  same  way  and 
for  the  same  purpose.  The  magnifying  of  the  state 
is  a  backward  step  if  it  signifies  that  a  people 
has  become  less  self-reliant  and  liberty-loving ;  it  is 
but  adaptation  if  the  growth  of  monopoly  has  made 
intervention  necessary  in  order  to  preserve  individ- 
ual initiative  and  free  competition.  The  multiply- 
i88 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ing  of  statutes  is  ominous  if  it  results  from  the  indi- 
vidual becoming  evil-disposed  or  the  legislator  med- 
dlesome ;  on  the  other  hand,  as  an  endeavor  to  meet 
the  needs  of  a  more  complex  organization  of  society, 
it  presents  itself  in  the  light  of  a  welcome  adjust- 
ment. The  growth  of  one-man  power  is  degenera- 
tion if  it  is  caused  by  a  lowered  citizenship;  it  is 
only  adaptation  if  the  facilities  for  focusing  public 
opinion  have  so  improved  that  the  cruder  checks  on 
the  executive  have  ceased  to  be  necessary. 

I  conclude,  then,  that  social  dynamics  ought  to  ^ 
drop  such  vague  and  dubious  conceptions  as  prog- 
ress and  regress,  and  address  itself  to  the  simple 
fact  of  social  change. 

Nothing  exists  save  by  the  conjuncture  of  two  or  ^ 
more  factors.  If  any  one  of  these  factors  be  want- 
ing, the  thing  does  not  come  to  pass.  Yet  we  do 
not  term  each  and  all  of  these  factors  "causes." 
The  appearance  of  a  new  situation  is  considered  to  be  ' 
the  effect  of  the  precipitating  factor.  The  ferment, 
the  igniting  spark,  the  touching  of  the  electric  but- 
ton, the  knocking  away  of  the  stay  block,  the  turning 
of  the  lever,  is  looked  upon  as  the  cause  of  what  en- 
sues. The  factors  already  present  are  termed  the  ^ 
conditions,  not  the  causes,  of  the  change.  Suppose, 
for  example,  a  given  phenomenon  cannot  occur  with- 
out the  conjuncture  of  factors  a,  h,  and  c.  If  a  and 
b  are  present  and  the  phenomenon  occurs  on  the  ad- 
dition of  c,  then  c  is  regarded  as  the  cause,  a  and  h 
as  the  conditions.     But  it  is  possible  that  either  of 

189 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

these  may  be  the  precipitating  factor  working  within 
the  framework  constituted  by  the  other  two  factors. 

Now,  this  logic  applies  to  the  advent  of  a  new 
social  form.  If  a  tribe  continues  pastoral  because 
of  ignorance,  then  the  cause  of  its  entrance  upon  the 
agricultural  stage  will  be  its  acquiring  the  arts  of 
cultivation.  But  our  frontier  communities  have  al- 
ways tarried  some  time  in  the  cattle-raising  stage, 
and  the  cause  of  their  transition  to  agriculture  has 
been  the  growth  of  their  population.  Japan  in  the 
early  days  had  the  capital  for  the  building  of  rail- 
roads, but  not  the  knowledge.  On  the  other  hand.. 
New  Zealand  possessed  the  knowledge,  but  lacked 
the  capital.  In  the  former  case  the  arrival  of  knowl- 
edge, in  the  latter  case  the  arrival  of  capital,  is  the 
cause  of  the  advent  of  steam  locomotion. 

The  strategic  importance  of  the  precipitating  fac- 
tor has  a  bearing  on  the  dispute  between  the  cham- 
pions of  individuals  as  causes  of  social  change  and 
the  champions  of  collective  causes  —  between  the 
innovationists  and  the  adaptationisfs.  A  useful 
process  or  a  labor-saving  machine  is  promptly 
adopted  and  begins  at  once  to  work  its  transforming 
effects.  The  inventor  may  therefore  be  hailed  as 
the  prime  cause  of  the  social  changes  that  ensue. 
The  clever  men  that  devised  the  great  improvements 
in  textile  machinery  which  appeared  in  the  latter  half 
of  the  eighteenth  century  indirectly  broke  up  the 
guilds,  brought  in  the  factory  system,  created  indus- 
trial cities,  and  riveted  slavery  upon  our  southern 
states.  But  innovations  that  do  not  make  so  irre- 
190 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

sistible  an  appeal — juristic  and  political  ideas,  relig- 
ious, ethical,  and  aesthetic  ideals — are  apt  to  be  neg- 
lected till  some  influence  brings  the  public  mind  into 
a  receptive  attitude  toward  them.  In  such  cases  the 
influence  is  the  cause. 

There  have  always  been  men  who  suggested  that 
horse-thieves  deserve  hanging.  If,  now,  certain 
new  communities  do  hang  their  horse-thieves,  the 
cause  of  the  practice  is  not  the  proponent,  but  the 
peculiar  situation  which  disposes  the  community  to 
fall  in  with  his  suggestion.  For  ages  eloquent  men 
have  fulminated  against  strong  drink.  The  modern 
temperance  movement  is,  then,  not  to  be  credited 
solely  to  orators  like  Father  Mathew  and  Gough. 
The  response  of  our  age  to  their  appeals  must  be  at- 
tributed to  the  great  changes  in  diet  and  in  industry 
which  have  made  the  liquor  habit  more  pernicious 
than  formerly.  Take  the  craving  for  divorce.  Is 
it  due  to  the  example  or  advocacy  of  certain  influen- 
tial persons  ?  Rather  must  we  lay  it  to  the  opening^, 
of  doors  to  a  feminine  career  and  the  relaxation  of 
old  beliefs  which  constrained  woman  to  bear  un-/ 
murmuringly  her  yoke.  Comte  hinges  a  rise  in  the 
status  of  the  slave  or  the  woman  on  a  change  in 
speculative  opinion.  Now,  however,  we  are  apt  to 
connect  it  with  a  change  in  the  relation  of  population 
to  land  or  in  the  industrial  importance  of  woman. 
Similarly,  the  transformations  of  law  and  govern- 
ment are  coming  to  be  correlated  less  with  the  ideas 
and  personalities  that  are  active  in  achieving  them 
than  with  certain  hidden  shiftings  of  economic  or 

191 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

social  power.  So  there  are  rival  explanations,  the 
one  individual,  the  other  collective,  of  the  anti- 
slavery  movement,  the  peace  movement,  the  reform 
of  punishment,  the  rise  of  socialism. 

The  fact  is,  the  promulgation  of  a  new  idea  or 
ideal  is  like  casting  a  bit  of  ferment  into  a  plasm. 
The  psychologists  are  more  intent  on  the  ferment 
than  on  the  nature  of  the  medium  in  which  it  works. 
The  economists,  on  the  other  hand,  inquire  why  the 
medium  permits  fermentation  to  arise,  but  ignore 
the  necessity  of  casting  in  the  ferment.  Both,  how- 
ever, are  necessary,  the  question  of  cause  turning 
simply  on  whether  the  plasm  awaits  the  ferment  or 
the  ferment  awaits  its  plasm. 

All  parts  of  an  organism  are  to  a  certain  extent 
related  to  one  another,  so  that  when  one  part  varies 
the  other  part  varies  simultaneously.  If,  for  ex- 
ample, a  creature's  head  becomes  heavier,  the  mus- 
cles of  its  neck  must  become  larger.  On  this  same 
principle  of  correlation  an  important  change  in  any 
sphere  of  social  life  is  apt  to  produce  sympathetic  or 
compensatory  changes  in  other  spheres.  For  in- 
stance, few  of  the  mutations  in  social  ethics  are  due 
to  novel  ethical  ideas ;  they  are  echoes  or  aftermath 
of  changes  in  some  of  the  more  basic  spheres,  such 
^  as  economic,  sex,  or  religious  life.  '  Now,  in  social 
dynamics  the  sociologist  may  not  content  himself 
with  accounting  for  one  social  change  by  another 
social  change,  but  must  follow  up  the  causal  chain 
link  by  link  until  he  reaches  either  a  regular  social 
process  or  an  extra-social  factor. 
192 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

^  He  must,  moreover,  hold  firmly  in  mind  the  dis- 
tinction between  the  cause  of  a  social  phenomenon 
and  the  cause  of  a  change  in  this  phenomenon.  The  ;- 
former  is  human  desire.  Desire  is  the  steam  which 
drives  the  machinery  of  society.  It  is  behind  all 
social  activities,  beneath  all  groupings  and  relation- 
ships. Its  action  is  essentially  statical.  If  it  pro- 
duces change,  that  change  is  incidental.  The  causes 
of  social  transformation  are  to  be  sought,  not  among 
desires,  but  in  something  of  a  different  nature  which 
changes  their  direction  or  modifies  the  framework 
within  which  they  operate.  The  causes  are  the  in-  ^ 
novating  example,  the  foreign  influence,  or  the  new 
knowledge,  which  engenders  new  wants.  They  are 
the  increase  of  population,  the  accumulatien  of  capi- 
tal, the  removal  to  a  new  country,  or  the  impact  of 
a  neighboring  group,  by  which  are  altered  the  condi- 
tions under  which  old  wants  can  be  gratified.  This 
broad  contrast  between  the  social  forces  and  the  fac- 
tors of  social  change  is  another  justification  for  di- 
viding sociology  into  statics  and  dynamics.    ' 

If  we  are  to  explain  the  differences  in  the  rate  or  ^ 
course  of  change  between  societies  or  between  dif- 
ferent periods  in  the  history  of  the  same  society,  it  is 
idle  to  cite  a  trait  common  to  all  societies  and  to  all 
times.  When  Comte  and  Lacombe  name  ennui  as 
one  of  the  causes  of  social  progress,  they  confuse 
cause  with  condition.  Similarly  Comte's  demon- 
stration that  a  greater  longevity  would  injuriously 
strengthen  the  conservative  forces  in  society  does 
13  193 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

not  warrant  us  in  listing  the  brevity  of  life  among 
the  causes  of  social  variation. 
V  Since  it  is  the  variants,  not  the  constants,  that 
count  here,  a  fixed  trait,  whether  of  race  or  of 
locality,  cannot  figure  as  cause  of  a  social  trans- 
formation. Geography,  to  be  sure,  acquaints  us  with 
the  framework  within  which  social  changes  occur, 
and  by  which  they  are  moulded  and  limited.  But  the 
physical  environment,  while  it  may  admit  variative 
tendencies,  cannot  initiate  them.  Natural  waterways 
and  an  indented  coast  may  favor  progress,  but  they 
cannot  produce  it.  Soil  and  climate  account  for  the 
enduring  lineaments,  but  not  for  the  metamorphoses 
of  peoples.  Unlikeness  of  surroundings  may  cause 
differences  between  societies,  but  it  cannot  bring 
about  differences  between  successive  epochs  in  the 
same  society,  unless  in  the  meantime  the  people  has 
migrated.  Still,  to  the  eye  of  the  geologist,  the 
environment  is  not  quite  stable.  Elevation,  sub- 
sidence, desiccation,  the  silting  up  of  streams  or 
'  ports,  the  shifting  of  river  beds,  the  formation  of 
pestilential  marshes,  or  changes  in  flora  and  fauna, 
may  cause  disturbance  in  the  social  equilibrium,  and 
should  therefore  find  a  place  in  the  theory  of  social 
dynamics. 

Eighteenth-century  thought,  regarding  the  for- 
ward movement  of  society  as  the  direct  consequence 
of  the  march  of  the  human  intellect,  did  not  feel 
the  need  of  exploring  or  setting  forth  the  causes  of 
social  changes.  Of  late  sociologists,  swinging  to 
194 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

the  other  extreme,  have  looked  upon  the  stationary 
state  as  the  normal  condition  of  men  owing  to  the  ^ 
inertia  of  the  human  mind.  Now,  while  in  the  end 
all  causal  chains  carry  us  back  to  the  nature  of  man 
or  of  his  environment,  I  showed  above^  that  the  im- 
mediate reference  of  a  social  form  to  human  nature 
is  the  mark  of  a  crude  social  philosophy.  I  We  ought 
not  to  refer  social  variation  to  the  progressiveness  of 
the  human  intellect  or  social  stagnation  to  its  slug- 
gishness. The  difference  noted  in  the  response  of 
different  societies  to  the  same  stimulus  is  not  to  be 
explained  by  a  universal  trait  like  mental  inertia,  but 
by  special  traits  and  conditions.  Various  factors 
may  be  recognized  which  counteract  transforming 
impulses.  There  are,  therefore,  causes  of  social  im 
mobility  to  be  set  forth  as  well  as  causes  of  social 
change. 

Peculiarities  of  environment  or  of  race  may  neu- 
tralize stimuli  and  so  preserve  a  social  ferm  intact. 
Beyond  a  certain  point  in  development,  harsh  cli- 
mate, barren  soil,  absence  of  wood  and  minerals,  ^ 
and  lack  of  natural  waterways  may  interpose  a  bar 
which  no  amount  of  inventive  genius  can  avail  to 
break.  -^  Again,  impassable  barriers  such  as  moun- » 
tains,  deserts,  and  seas  may  prevent  a  group  finding-  ^a 
other  groups  to  struggle  against,  combine  with,  or 
borrow  from.     Nor  are  all  races  equally  capable  of 
ascent.     Those  varieties  of  mankind  cradled  in  the 
happy  climes  where  Nature  spreads  the  table,  hav- 
ing never  been  sifted  by  hunger  and  cold,  or  dis- 

^Page  13. 

195 


im-  r 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ciplined  to  toil  and  forethought,  lack  the  energy  to 
avail  themselves  of  the  treasures  civilization  showers 
into  their  lap.  ^  What  is  stimulus  to  some  races  is 
no  stimulus  to  them.  They  can  perish,  but  they 
cannot  change. 

There  are,  moreover,  social  processes  which  ac- 
cumulate products  of  a  static  tendency.  Such  are 
all  those  experiences  which  exaggerate  the  collective 
ego  at  the  expense  of  the  individual.  This  may  take 
the  form  of  an  organization  which  ruthlessly  crushes 
out  criticism,  discussion  and  innovation.  In  the 
course  of l prolonged  warfare  the  state  may  acquire 
such  a  prestige  and  come  to  inspire  such  a  loyalty 
that  it  can  trample  on  the  rights  of  the  individual 
and  break  the  spirit  of  question  and  initiative.  In  a 
prolonged  struggle  to  curb  and  civilize  barbarians  a 
priesthood  may  attain  such  an  authority  that  it  is 
allowed  to  destroy  the  bolder  spirits  and  to  terrorize 
innovators.  '  Often,  however,  a  society  becomes  im- 
mobile from  collective  suggestion  rather  than  from 
the  violences  of  state  and  church.  China  and  India 
have  become  ossified  by  public  opinion  rather  than 
by  the  persecutor.  Vast  ocean-like  collections  of 
humanity,  inhabiting  a  relatively  uniform  environ- 
ment, become  stagnant  because  the  individual  suc- 
cumbs to  the  mere  volume  of  suggestion  and  the 
mass  is  too  great  to  be  stirred  by  one  man.  Little 
groups,  moreover,  are  held  together  by  i^istinct 
or  interest.  It  is  the  advent  of  vast  groups  with  a 
considerable  culture,  held  together  by  collective  cus- 
toms arid  beliefs,  that  makes  variation  difficult 
196 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

I^The  group's  instinct  of  self-preservation  establishes 
a  traditionalist  educational  system  which  is  intended 
to  hypnotize  the  individual  before  he  has  begun  to 
think.  This  collective  resistance  to  innovation  is 
most  marked  in  oppressed  peoples  (Jews,  Poles, 
Armenians)  with  whom  the  inherited  culture  is  at 
once  a  badge  of  ancient  glories,  a  bond  of  union,  and 
a  defiance  to  their  oppressors.  '  Again,  the  patri- 
archal regime  gives  rise  to  ancestor-worship  which, 
by  bringing  the  living  under  the  control  of  the  dead, 
preserves  the  status  quo.  The  inheritance  of  places 
and  functions,  since  it  puts  age  in  possession  of  all 
the  vantage  points  in  society,  tends  to  arrest  develop- 
ment. An  exploitation  of  the  mass  by  the  minority 
strains  social  order,  and  hence  causes  regulative 
institutions,  such  as  government,  law,  religion,  and^ 
ceremony  to  be  elaborated  to  the  highest  degree^ 
These  work  better  as  they  become  hallowed  by  age, 
and  therefore  the  aggrandizement  of  these  agencies 
of  ^control  reinforces  the  conservative  tendencies  in 
society. 

Passing  now  to  the  positive  branch  of  social  dyna- 
mics, we  find  two  schools  contending  for  mastery — 
the  development  school  and  the  stimulus  school. 

The  former  regards  social  change  as  a  becoming. 
Progress  and  regress,  ascent  and  descent,  present 
smooth  flowing  curves  like  the  development  of  an 
embryo.  The  continuity  is  due  to  the  fact  that 
change  is  brought  about  by  the  operation  of  resident 
forces.  The  causes  of  the  transformations  of  so- 
197 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ciety  are  to  be  sought  among  the  recurrent  experi- 
ences and  activities  of  its  members.  There  is  no 
standing  still,  save  when  development  is  arrested  by 
some  obstacle.  Each  social  state  in  the  fullness  of 
time  ushers  in  its  successor.  One  phase  carries  the 
germs  of  the  next.  The  present  is  pregnant  with  the 
future.  In  the  succession  of  its  phases  society,  like 
an  organism,  follows  a  path  predetermined  and  pre- 
dictable. 

The  new  school,  on  the  other  hand,  emphasizes 
discontinuity.  Far  from  being  a  smooth  upward 
slope,  the  way  of  progress  is  a  ladder  with  rungs  at 
very  unequal  intervals.  Group-life  tends  toward  an 
equilibrium.  Forms  petrify  rather  than  pass  into 
something  else.  An  impulse  spends  itself,  and  so- 
ciety, with  no  new  push,  comes  to  rest.  The  causes 
of  change  are  to  be  sought,  then,  not  in  society,  but 
in  impinging  sub-social  or  extra-social  forces  — 
stimuli,  so  to  speak.  Conquest,  the  intrusion  of  an 
alien  race,  migration  to  a  new  seat,  are  apt  to  play 
havoc  with  the  curves  plotted  by  the  development 
theorist.  If  the  disturbing  factor  does  not  intrude 
from  without,  it  pushes  up  from  below.     The  genius 

■  is  not  a  social  but  a  vital  phenomenon.  Inventions 
and  discoveries  break  in  from  what  Professor  James 
terms    ''the   physiological   cycle."       Social   destiny 

y^  pivots  on  the  advent  of  a  brain  that  can  invent  gun- 
powder, the  watermill,  the  compass,  the  printing- 
press,  the  locomotive  —  in  a  word,  on  individual 
causes.  At  every  instant  a  people  has  a  number  of 
paths  open  to  it,  and  which  one  it  will  follow  depends 
198 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

on  those  physiological  variations  which  produce 
genius.  The  only  paths  the  sociologist  may  plot  are 
those  by  which  an  invention  radiates  from  the  inven- 
tor and  becomes  generalized.  The  only  dynamic 
laws  are  laws  of  imitations,  interferences,  and 
adaptations. 

Now,  each  of  these  views,  the  old  and  the  new,  Y 
reveals  a  part  of  the  truth,  and,  in  the  judgment  of 
the  writer,  the  time  has  come  to  broaden  social  d>  -  x 
namics  until  it  includes  them  both.     Let  us  first  con- 
sider just  how  society  may  be  modified  by  the  opera- 
tion of  resident  forces. 

Among  the  causes  of  social  change  may  be  dis- 
tinguished two  sorts  of  alteration — qualitative  and 
quantitative.  A  mechanical  invention,  a  scientific 
discovery,  a  new  conception  of  life,  a  crossing  of 
races,  exemplifies  the  former.  An  increase  or  de- 
crease of  resources,  or  capital,  or  of  some  component 
of  the  population,  exemplifies  the  latter.  Thus  the 
softening  of  slavery  into  serfdom  may  follow  the 
promulgation  of  a  new  dogma  or  a  growing  scarcity 
of  slaves.  A  new  theory  of  races  may  make  a  slave 
code  harsher,  but,  as  the  history  of  the  Southern 
Colonies  amply  proves,  an  increase  in  the  proportion 
of  slave  population  has  the  same  effect.  Now,  a 
people  so  conservative  as  to  surround  itself  with  a 
Chinese  wall,  banish  its  innovators,  stone  its  proph- 
ets, make  the  ancient  writings  the  staple  of  its  in- 
struction, and  draw  its  leaders  from  the  ranks  of  its 
literati,  may  effectually  seal  the  sources  of  qualita- 
tive change.     Yet  it  cannot  by  any  contrivance  elude 

199 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

quantitative  changes   which  may   react  upon  and 
modify  its  institutions. 

£  Most  of  the  "functions"  of  society  have  no  tend- 
ency to  disturb  the  status  quo.  The  round  of  love, 
marriage,  and  reproduction,  so  long  as  births  and 
deaths  balance ;  production,  so  far  as  it  is  balanced 
by  consumption ;  exchange,  so  long  as  the  argosies  of 
commerce  carry  goods,  but  not  ideas ;  education,  so 
far  as  it  passes  on  the  traditional  culture — these,  to- 
gether with  recreation,  social  intercourse,  worship, 
social  control,  government,  and  the  administration 
of  justice,  are  essentially  statical.  They  might  con- 
ceivably go  on  forever  without  producing  change. 

This  is,  in  fact,  what  we  should  expect ;  for  human 
activities  are  instigated  by  desire,  and  the  result  they 
aim  at  is  a  transitory  one,  viz.,  the  satisfaction  of 
desire.  Anything  that  whets  desire  multiplies  activ- 
ities, but  does  not  necessarily  change  their  form. 
Like  the  rotating  wheel,  the  striving  millions  exhibit 
motion  without  movement.  In  view  of  the  fact  that 
the  hard-working  peoples  are  the  most  conservative, 
society  might  be  likened  to  a  gyroscope,  in  that  the 
greater  its  motion,  the  greater  is  its  resistance  to 
change  of  position.  If,  then,  these  recurrent  activi- 
ties have  any  dynamic  result,  it  will  be  an  incidental 
or  side  effect^ 

Now,  there  are  certain  regular  processes  which 
leave  behind  them  as  by-product  a  permanent  effect, 
and  in  time  these  effects  must  accumulate  until  they 
strain  and  warp  social  structures.  Hunting,  by 
selective  elimination  of  the  less  cautious  creatures, 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

eventually  makes  the  game  scarcer  and  shyer,  and  so 
renders  the  chase  a  more  precarious  mode  of  liveli- 
hood. In  the  pastoral  stage  the  continual  escape  of 
wilder  animals  from  the  herd,  and  the  consequent 
breeding  from  the  more  tractable  tends  to  complete 
domestication,  and  so  paves  the  way  to  agriculture. 
Dynamic,  also,  are  such  operations  as  modify  the 
physical  environment.  In  explaining  the  varying 
destinies  of  a  people,  says  Metchnikoff,^ 

one  can  neglect  the  slow  geological  and  climatic  changes ;  on 
the  other  hand,  the  modifications  that  human  industry,  the 
accumulated  labor  of  successive  generations,  produce  in  the 
nature  of  the  country  have  a  very  great  importance.  .  .  . 
Thus  the  prehistoric  settlers  in  the  Nile  valley  handed  over 
to  their  descendants  of  the  Memphite  epoch  an  environment 
very  dififerent  from  the  one  they  had   received   from  the 

hands  of  nature Later,  important  works,  such 

as  the  reservoir  of  Fayoum,  modify  considerably  the  physical 
conditions  confronting  the  Egyptians  of  the  Theban  period. 

Dykes,  levees,  canals,  drains,  causeways,  and  roads 
alter  the  economic  plane  on  which  society  rests.  In 
China  and  about  the  Mediterranean  deforestation 
has  produced  momentous  changes.  Mining,  clear- 
ing, "breaking,"  reclaiming,  inclosing,  improving, 
as  well  as  the  destruction  of  pests,  have  a  dynamic 
effect,  seeing  they  lessen  the  material  they  have  to 
work  upon.  The  digging  of  the  precious  metals 
renders  them  in  time  so  plentiful  that  the  money 
economy  supplants  the  natural  economy  and  society 
is  profoundly  transformed.     The  casual  acclimatiza- 

*"La  civilisation  et  les  grands  fleuves,"  p.  225. 
201 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

tion  of  alien  economic  plants  and  animals  in  a  region 
may  prevent  social  standstill. 

Certain  modifications  of  the  human  breed  come 
about  as  accumulated  incidental  effects.  As  the  ax 
devours  the  forest  and  the  plow  the  prairie,  the  hunt- 
ing and  nomad  types  starve  and  man  is  tamed. 
Trade  in  time  eliminates  the  impulsive  type  and  fills 
the  earth  with  calculators.  The  migration  of  the 
energetic  in  quest  of  better  opportunities,  by  bring- 
ing them  into  flourishing  communities  where  they 
have  larger  families  than  the  stay-at-homes,  builds 
up  an  energetic  breed.^  With  the  lapse  of  genera- 
tions, an  institution  like  monasticism  or  sacerdotal 
celibacy  by  its  unnoticed  selective  working  alters 
the  bench-mark  of  race-fiber  to  which  all  social 
structures  conform.  A  bloody  penal  system,  besides 
intimidating  the  evil-disposed,  incidentally  extir- 
pates the  criminal  type,  and  so  paves  the  way  for  a 
milder  code.  Monogyny,  child-marriage,  primogen- 
iture, indiscriminate  almsgiving,  religious  persecu- 
tion, and  militarism  all  accumulate  unsuspected  but 
far-reaching  results. 

History  furnishes  striking  instances  of  large 
changes  brought  about  by  processes  which  left  be- 
hind them  a  little  more  or  less  of  something.  The 
destruction  of  the  middle  class,  the  curiales,  in  later 
Roman  society  was  brought  about  by  the  prolonged 
operation  of  an  iniquitous  tax  system  which  ground 
them  slowly  to  powder. ^       In  the  Dark  Ages  the 

^  See  the  last  paper  in  this  book. 

'Dill,   "Roman    Society,"   Bk.    Ill,    ch.   II.     Seeck,   op.  cit., 

202 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

short-sighted  practice  of  rewarding  military  services 
with  estates,  which,  at  first  granted  for  Hfe,  later  be- 
came inheritable,  eventually  dissipated  the  resources 
of  the  crown  and  led  to  the  decentralization  seen  in 
the  feudal  system.^  In  the  course  of  centuries  the 
death-bed  gifts  of  the  rich  to  religious  corporations 
accumulated  a  fifth  of  the  soil  of  Europe  in  the 
"dead  hand,"  and  thus  profoundly  modified  the  posi- 
tion of  the  Church.  The  oppressive  exercise  of 
jurisdiction  by  the  great  proprietors  of  mediaeval 
Germany  pressed  down  the  peasants  one  after  an- 
other into  a  servile  condition,  until  at  last  free  cul- 
tivators ceased  to  exist.  The  similar  practice  of 
certain  Southern  justices  of  to-day  in  imposing  on 
negroes  excessive  fines  and  binding  them  to  work 
for  the  planter  who  pays  the  fine,  will,  if  unchecked, 
gradually  remand  the  colored  race  into  slavery. 

Even  the  progress  of  the  arts  and  sciences,  usually 
so  prolific  in  social  changes,  is  not  always  due  to 
irruptions  from  the  individual  brain.  The  right 
form  of  a  tool  may  come  from  an  ingenious  mind,  or 
from  trying  every  possible  form  and  noting  which 
one  works  best.  The  dressing  of  skins  or  the  fash- 
ioning of  pots  may  improve  by  the  mere  comparing 
of  the  results  of  different  treatments.  A  fisher-folk 
may  arrive  at  the  correct  lines  for  the  boat  by  ob- 
serving the  behavior  of  craft  variously  shaped  ac- 
cording to  accident    or    individual    caprice.       The 

vol.  II.  Fustel  de  Coulanges,  "Histoire  des  institutions 
politiques  de  I'ancienne  France,"  vol.  I,  Bk,  II,  ch.  VI. 

^  Kowalewsky,  "Oekonomische  Entwickelung  Europas," 
vol.  II,  chs.  I  and  II. 

203 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

emergence  of  a  standard  pattern  of  bow,  or  pot,  or 
snow-shoe,  or  hut  is  sometimes  development  rather 
than  invention — a  precipitate  from  collective  experi- 
ence rather  than  the  happy  thought  of  some  clever 
wight.  Fin  and  flipper  and  leg  and  wing  were 
built  by  the  blind  accumulation  of  fortuitous  varia- 
tions, and  it  is  likely  that  some  of  man's  achieve- 
ments have  come  by  the  method  of  trial  and  error 
continued  through  generations. 

Science,  too,  although  supposed  to  rise  by  strokes 
of  genius  alone,  has  something  of  the  inevitable  in 
its  ascent,  owing  to  the  accumulation  of  facts  re- 
corded by  generations  of  observers.  The  early 
priesthoods  scanned  the  heavens  till  periods  and 
orbits  stared  at  them  out  of  their  own  records. 
Think  of  the  long  collective  labor  by  which  the  Tol- 
tecs  ascertained  the  length  of  the  solar  year  as  365^ 
days  and  instituted  a  cycle  of  fifty-two  years  at  the 
end  of  which  the  calendar  was  rectified  by  intercala- 
tion! Proverbs  are  the  slow  deposit  of  collective 
experience.  Even  the  gods  are  evolved  rather  than 
invented.  The  nature  gods,  at  least,  pass  through  a 
period  of  probation,  and  only  those  are  finally  adopt- 
ed by  the  tribe  which  have  established  a  long  and 
brilliant  record  as  success-bringers.^ 

Next  to  the  static o-dynamic  processes  come  trans- 
mutations. These  are  changes  of  an  involuntary 
character  due  to  the  difficulty  one  generation  has  in 
accurately  reproducing  the  copy  set  by  its  predeces- 

*  Payne,  "History  of  America,"  vol.  I,  pp.  439-440. 
204 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

sor.  The  speech  of  parents  being  imperfectly  imi- 
tated by  their  children,  there  results  that  accumula- 
tion of  minute  unnoticed  changes  which  is  described 
by  the  Law  of  Transmutation  of  vowels  and  conso- 
nants. Refracted  through  successive  scribes,  picto- 
graphs  drift  into  conventional  ideographic  charac- 
ters. Natural  gestures  and  actions  become  fos- 
silized into  meaningless  forms.  Metaphors  cease, 
after  a  few  generations,  to  call  up  images  of  objects 
or  actions.  Coins  cast  at  first  as  miniature  spades 
or  knives  drift  into  unrecognizable  shapes.^  An 
epithet  of  a  deity  comes  finally  to  designate  a  new 
deity  distinct  from  the  old.^  The  unconscious  logic 
of  the  mind  metamorphoses  a  god  of  the  soil,  first 
into  a  god  of  rain,  and  then  into  a  god  of  thunder 
and  lightning.^ 

Institutions  and  relations  likewise  glide  insensibly 
into  forms  that  would  not  consciously  be  assumed. 
Presents  freely  given  to  a  chief  pass  Into  presents 
expected  and  finally  demanded,  while  volunteered 
help  passes  into  exacted  service.  Among  the  Greeks 
there  was  "a  gradual  transition  from  the  primitive 
idea  of  a  personal  goddess,  Themis,  attached  to  Zeus, 
first  to  his  sentences  or  orders  called  Themistes,  and 
next  by  a  still  farther  remove  to  various  established 
customs  which  these  sentences  were  believed  to  sanc- 
tify." The  most  common  and  convenient  article  of 
wealth  gradually  establishes  itself  as  a  medium  of 

*  Simcox,  "Primitive  Civilization,"  vol.  II,  pp.  58,  59. 
'Barton,  "A  Sketch  of  Semitic  Origins,"  pp.  187,  190. 

*  Ibid,,  p.  22g. 

205 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

exchange.  Bank-notes,  issued  as  certificates  of  de- 
posit of  coin  and  redeemable  on  demand,  come  at 
last  to  be  looked  upon  as  real  money,  and  circulate 
long  after  the  tradition  of  the  old  right  of  redemp- 
tion has  been  lost  and  the  original  deposit  dissipated.^ 
Often  it  is  by  an  imperceptible  process  that  lordship 
ripens  into  property.  In  India  minor  officers, 
courtiers,  and  servants  "were  provided  for  by  being 
allowed  to  take,  in  individual  villages,  the  whole  or 
part  of  the  Raja's  grain. "^  "In  time  these  claims 
always  develop  into  a  landlord  right  over  the  vil- 
lage."^ "The  change  from  revenue-manager  to 
landlord  was  accomplished  in  about  a  century."* 
An  ethical  religion  tends  to  become  external  and 
perfunctory,  owing  to  the  fact  that  its  spirit  is  more 
quickly  altered  in  transmission  than  its  form.  The 
force  of  gravity  which  makes  even  the  glacier  flow 
has  its  analogue  in  human  indolence,  which  will 
unwittingly  deform  the  most  sacred  commands  and 
the  most  authoritative  ideals,  if  they  run  counter  to 
natural  inclination  and  have  not  been  fixed  in  writ- 
ing. 

f^T  ^  Passing  now  from  static o-dynamic  processes  and 
transmutations  as  factors  of  social  change  to  stimuli, 

^  we  have  ^rst  to  remark  that  the  quest  for  these  is 
made  difficult  by  the  fact  that  a  brusque  revolution 

*  Dunbar,  "Theory  and  Practice  of  Banking,"  ch.  VIII. 
'  Baden- Powell,  "The  Land  Systems  of  British  India,"  vol. 
II,  p.  224. 

*Ibid.,  vol.  I,  p.  131. 
*7Wd.,  vol.  I,  p.  186. 

ao6 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

in  the  conditions  of  life  or  thought  produces  not 
sudden  but  gradual  changes  in  society.  Removal 
to  a  new  environment,  the  change  from  peace  to 
war  or  vice  versa,  contact  with  an  alien  culture,  the 
introduction  of  a  new  agent  of  production  —  any 
one  of  these  may  suddenly  shift  the  plane  of  exist- 
ence for  a  people,  and  necessitate  extensive  social 
readjustments.  Yet,  owing  to  mental  inertia  and 
the  selfish  resistance  of  interested  classes,  such  read- 
justments are  apt  to  be  spread  over  a  considerable 
period.  The  shock  received  within  a  twelvemonth 
may  echo  and  reverberate  for  a  whole  generation. 
It  is  because  a  given  stimulus  does  not  cause  a 
prompt  and  equally  vigorous  pulsation  in  social  life, 
but  brings  in  a  long  train  of  adaptations,  some  of 
them  at  several  removes  from  the  original  center  of 
disturbance,  that  it  is  so  difficult  to  connect  social 
transformations  with  their  primary  causes.  Mo^ 
over,  a  succession  of  dissimilar  and  unrelated  stim- 
uli from  different  quarters  may  yield  a  continuity  of 
social  change  which  will  foster  the  false  impression 
that  the  transformations  of  society  occur  in  a  fixed 
order,  each  state  drawing  after  it  the  succeeding 
state,  according  to  some  necessary  order  of  "devel- 
opment." 

With  this  caution  let  us  now  take  up,  one  after 
another,  the  chief  extra-social  or  sub-social  factors 
of  social  change,  and  ascertain  the  characteristic 
workings  of  each. 

I.  The  Growth  of  Population.  —  This  phenome- 
non presents  two  cases.  In  the  one  case  the  rate 
207 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

of  increase  is  practically  the  same  for  all  parts  of 
the  population ;  in  the  other  case  the  various  classes 
and  sections  multiply  at  diverse  rates.  The  former 
case  will  be  considered  first. 

A  uniform  increase  of  numbers  throughout  so- 
ciety, while  it  does  not  directly  disturb  the  relations 
of  the  parts,  changes  the  relation  of  population  to 
land,  and  thus  intensifies  the  exertions  needed  to 
procure  subsistence.  This  stress  incites  to  new 
ways  of  exploiting  the  environment,  which  in  turn 
bring  individuals  into  new  relations  to  one  another, 
and  so  cause  modification  of  the  social  structure. 
The  advance  from  the  hunting  to  the  pastoral  stage 
did  not  follow  promptly  the  domestication  of  animals, 
but  often  awaited  the  pressure  of  population.  Man 
seems  first  to  have  tamed  animals  for  amusement. 
In  Africa  we  find  the  Ovambo  "very  rich  in  cattle 
and  fond  of  animal  diet,  yet  their  beasts  would  seem 
to  be  kept  for  show  rather  than  for  food."^  Says 
Bilcher :  "Generally  speaking,  the  possession  of  cat- 
tle is  for  the  negro  peoples  merely  'a  representation 
of  wealth  and  the  object  of  an  almost  extravagant 
veneration' — ^merely  a  matter  of  fancy."^  An  In- 
dian village  in  the  interior  of  Brazil  "resembles  a 
great  menagerie  ....  ;  but  none  of  the  many  ani- 
mals are  raised  because  of  the  meat  or  for  other  eco- 
nomic purpose."^  "On  the  whole,  then,  no  impor- 
tance can  be  attached  to  cattle-raising  in  the  produc- 

*  Quoted  by  Ely,  "Evolution  of  Industrial  Society,"  p.  39. 

*  "Industrial  Evolution,"  p.  51. 

208 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

tion  of  the  food  supplies  of  primitive  peoples."^ 
The  motor,  then,  that  urges  a  primitive  people  on 
into  the  pastoral  state  is  either  the  growing  scarcity 
of  game  (a  "cumulative  effect"),  or  the  increase  of 
numbers. 

The  same  driving  force  caused  man  to  pass  from 
herdmanship  to  tillage.  Of  the  Navajos  we  read  :^ 
"Indian  corn  ....  was  known  to  them  apparently 
from  the  earliest  times,  but  while  they  remained  a 
mere  hunting  tribe,  they  detested  the  labor  of  plant- 
ing. But  as  their  numbers  increased,  the  game, 
more  regularly  hunted,  became  scarce,  and  to  main- 
tain themselves  in  food,  necessity  forced  them  to  a 
more  general  cultivation  of  corn,  and  the  regular 
practice  of  planting  became  established  among 
them."  Says  Baden-Powell  :^  "Necessity  has 
forced  Rajputs  and  others  to  take  to  agriculture." 
Wallace  writes:*  "The  prospect  of  starvation  is, 
in  fact,  the  cause  of  the  transition  [to  agriculture] 
probably  in  all  cases,  and  certainly  in  the  case  of 
the  Bashkirs."  Von  Middendorf  says  :^  "Only 
the  poorest  Kirghises,  driven  by  want,  engage  in 
tillage."  An  ancient  chronicle,  alluding  to  the 
passage  from  pasturage  to  agriculture  in  seventh- 
century  Ireland,  says:  "Because  of  the  abun- 
dance of  the  households,  in  their  period,  therefore 


^"Industrial  Evolution,"  p.  52. 

^  Stephen,  "The  Navajo,"  American  Anthropologist,  vol.  VI, 

p.  347. 

'  "The  Land  Systems  of  British  India,"  vol.  I,  p.  135. 

*  "Russia,"  vol.  II,  p.  46. 

""Einblick  in  das  Ferghana-Thai,"  p.  187. 

14  209 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

it  is  that  they  [the  sons  of  ^d  Slane]  introduced 
boundaries  in  Ireland."^  Jenks  tells  us  that  the 
earliest  cultivators  of  the  soil  were  ''strangers  at- 
tached to  the  tribe  upon  whom  the  rough  work  of 
the  community  fell,  and  who  would  be  the  first  to 
suflfer  from  scarcity  of  food."^  Elsewhere  we  are 
told :  "When  hemmed  in  by  impassable  barriers  or 
invincible  enemies,  pastoral  tribes  under  the  pressure 
of  increasing  population  slowly  become  agricul- 
tural."^ To  the  same  force  is  due  the  change  from 
extensive  and  shifting  cultivation,  where  after  a  crop 
or  two  the  cultivator  makes  a  fresh  clearing,  to  in- 
tensive agriculture,  where  by  an  alternation  of  crops 
and  fallow  the  same  land  is  used  in  perpetuity. 

Now,  by  causing  these  economic  changes  the 
movement  of  population  becomes  a  primary  cause  of 
the  changes  in  social  organization  to  which  they  give 
rise.  The  adoption  of  pastoral  pursuits  converts 
the  savage  pack  into  the  tribe,  institutes  property, 
establishes  male  kinship,  develops  patriarchal  au- 
thority, favors  polygyny  and  wife-purchase,  makes 
woman  a  chattel,  causes  captives  to  be  enslaved  in- 
stead of  eaten,  and  substitutes  the  zvergeld  for  the 
blood-feud.  The  adoption  of  agriculture  changes 
the  nature  of  the  social  bond.  Says  Maine:* 
"From  the  moment  a  tribal  community  settles  down 
finally  upon  a  definite  space  of  land,  the  land  begins 

^Quoted,  Jenks,  "History  of  Politics,"  p.  46. 
'Ibid.,  p.  58. 

'  E,  V.  Robinson,  "War  and  Economics,"  Pol.  Science  Quar- 
terly, vol.  XV,  p.  584. 
*  "Early  History  of  Institutions,"  p.  72. 

210 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

to  be  the  basis  of  society  in  place  of  kinship."  It 
breaks  up  the  tribe  into  clans  which  become  village 
communities.  The  back-breaking  toil  induces  a  re- 
sort to  systematic  slavery  and  the  slave  trade. 
Where  settlement  ha.s  already  occurred,  the  passage 
from  simple  collection  to  tillage  causes  a  passage 
from  the  large  patriarchal  household  to  the  simple 
family,  and  from  family  property  in  land  to  indi- 
vidual property  with  the  right  of  bequest.^ 

After  agriculture  is  adopted,  the  increase  of  popu- 
lation does  not  cease  to  be  a  dynamic  factor.  The 
land  is  progressively  occupied,  until  at  last  the  la- 
borer has  no  longer  a  direct  access  to  natural  re- 
sources, but  must  offer  his  services  for  wages. 
When  this  point  is  reached,  slavery  and  serfdom 
begin  to  disappear,  for  coercion  is  no  longer  neces- 
sary to  secure  a  sufficient  supply  of  laborers.  The 
expansion  of  population  compels  a  resort  to  inferior 
soils.  This,  by  enhancing  the  value  of  the  better 
tracts  and  increasing  the  landowner's  share  of  the 
produce,  engenders  an  agricultural  aristocracy, 
which,  in  proportion  as  it  withdraws  itself  from 
labor  and  centers  its  attention  on  war  and  politics, 
becomes  master  of  the  community.^ 

Again,  the  enlargement  of  demand  in  consequence 
of  the  increase  of  numbers  enables  an  exchange 
ecoriorriy  to  take  the  place  of  domestic  husbandry, 
perhaps  causes  a  foreign  trade  to  spring  up.  The 
growth  of  potential  exchange,  in  consequence  of 


\  Demolins,  "Lcs  Francais.  d'aujourd'hui." 
*Guiraud,  "La  proipriete  fonciere  en  Grco 


en  Grcce,"  pp.  148-130. 
211 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

the  greater  local  surpluses  to  be  disposed  of  and  the 
greater  local  deficits  to  be  supplied  from  outside 
sources,  makes  it  worth  while  to  create  avenues  of 
communication,  and  these,  in  turn,  promote  the  ter- 
ritorial division  of  labor.  The  growth  of  numbers 
in  a  region  cannot  but  strain  its  natural  resources  in 
certain  respects  and  compel  the  local  population  to 
supply  their  lack  of  certain  commodities  from  the 
larger  resources  of  some  other  locality,  sending  out 
in  return  those  products  of  their  own  region  which 
are  to  be  had  in  the  greatest  abundance.  Besides 
thus  calling  into  being  merchants,  markets,  and 
movements  of  goods,  the  expansion  of  population 
causes  local  groups  of  craftsmen  to  spring  up  for  the 
supplying  of  articles  formerly  demanded  in  quanti- 
ties too  small  to  set  up  currents  of  trade.  In  place 
of  the  transitory  assemblages  at  fairs,  there  now  ap- 
pear town  populations  regularly  exchanging  their 
wares  with  the  country. 

The  growing  prominence  of  exchange  brings  men 
into  unwonted  relations,  which  presently  call  forth 
an  expansion  of  law  on  the  commercial  side.  The 
appearance  of  routes  traversing  many  jurisdictions, 
and  the  need  of  a  more  perfect  security  for  goods  en 
route  or  in  a  market,  create  a  demand  for  royal  pro- 
tection and  cement  that  alliance  of  the  nascent  mer- 
chant-artisan groups  with  the  king  which  is  so  po- 
tent in  humbling  the  feudal  lords.  In  his  struggle 
with  the  barons  the  monarch,  finding  his  surest  sup- 
port in  the  burgher  population,  picks  from  them  his 
agents  and  servants,  and  the  choicest  of  these,  cn- 

212 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

nobled  by  royal  patent,  take  their  places  alongside 
the  old  territorial  aristocracy. 

The  towns  which  arose  in  the  Middle  Ages  to  meet 
the  economic  needs  of  an  expanding  population  be- 
came the  starting-point  of  social  and  political  de- 
velopments quite  tangential  to  the  institutions  of  the 
time.  The  feudal  manor  was  a  type  of  constrained 
association;  the  town,  a  form  of  free  association. 
"City  air  makes  free."  Outside  the  town  the  indus- 
trial classes  were  servile,  and  a  stigma  attached  to 
labor;  inside,  labor  was  honored,  and  the  workman 
felt  joy  and  pride  in  his  work.  Outside,  fighting  and 
working  were  distinct  professions;  inside,  the 
burgher  labored  or  fought  as  occasion  required. 
Outside  was  rigid  hereditary  caste ;  inside,  men  came 
into  numerous  and  fluid  relationships.  The  town, 
in  fact,  contained  the  germ  of  a  distinct  social 
growth.  How  pregnant  is  the  overflow  of  popula- 
tion into  towns  appears  from  the  fact  that  town  life 
develops  a  mentality  of  its  own,  more  impression- 
able and  plastic  than  that  of  the  country.  Here 
outworn  traditions  and  narrow  local  sentiments  and 
obstinate  prejudices  meet  and  cancel  one  another. 
Races  fuse  and  intermarry.  There  appear  new  com- 
binations of  hereditary  factors.  Variation  is  more 
common.  The  shutters  of  the  intellect  are  taken 
down.  The  mind  becomes  alert  and  supple.  Freed 
from  the  hampering  net  of  kin  and  class  ties,  the 
individual  appears.  The  town  is,  therefore,  a  hot- 
bed, where  seed-ideas  quickly  germinate.  Its  pro- 
gressive population  soon  places  itself  at  the  head  of 
213 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

the  social  procession  and  sets  the  pace  for  the  slower 
country-dwellers. 

The  city,  less  traditional  than  the  country,  values 
men  according  to  some  present  fact — their  efficiency 
or  their  wealth,  rather  than  their  family.  It  is 
democratic  or  plutocratic  in  temper,  whereas  the 
country  is  the  natural  support  of  aristocracy.  In 
the  city  people  consume,  as  it  were,  in  one  another's 
presence,  and  hence  their  expenditure  conforms 
more  to  the  canon  of  Conspicuous  Waste  than  does 
that  of  countrymen.  The  multiplication  of  merely 
conventional  wants  arouses  energy,  intensifies  com- 
petition, whets  egoism,  and  restricts  the  size  of  the 
family. 

The  increase  of  social  mass  has  various  efifects 
upon  regulative  institutions.  A  lateral  extension  of 
society,  by  causing  distinctions  to  arise  between  local 
chiefs  and  the  head  chief,  between  local  priests  and 
the  high  priest,  favors  the  formation  of  hierarchies. 
The  growth  of  the  aggregate  causes  a  differentiation 
between  sacred  and  secular  functionaries,  between 
military  and  civil  heads,  and  between  judicial,  legis- 
lative, and  executive  offices.  The  heavier  burden  of 
business  compels  the  ruler  to  surround  himself  with 
helpers,  who  in  turn  require  other  helpers,  until  gov- 
ernment structure  becomes  complex.  Power  is  de- 
puted and  re-deputed.  Control  comes  into  the 
hands  of  the  leisured  or  the  trained.  The  exclusion 
of  the  poorer  classes  from  the  government  of  the 
Roman  republic  in  its  later  period  was  due  to  its 
expansion.  "Now  that  Rome  had  ceased  to  be  a 
214 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

purely  Italian  state,  and  had  adopted  Hellenic  cul- 
ture, it  was  no  longer  possible  to  take  a  small  farmer 
from  the  plow  and  set  him  at  the  head  of  the  com- 
munity."^ Eventually,  owing  to  the  overflow  of 
population  into  the  great  burgess-colonies,  and  the 
diffusion  of  the  Romans  throughout  the  peninsula, 
the  absolute  centralization  in  the  one  focus  of  Rome 
was  given  up,  and  a  municipal  system  was  instituted 
for  Italy  which  permitted  the  formation  of  smaller 
civic  communities  within  the  Roman  community.^ 
''Under  Chlodovech  and  his  immediate  successors," 
we  read,^  ''the  People,  assembled  in  arms,  had  a  real 
participation  in  the  resolutions  of  the  king.  But 
with  the  increasing  size  of  the  kingdom,  the  meeting 
of  the  entire  people  became  impossible,"  In  New 
England,  after  the  local  community  reaches  a  certain 
size,  the  annual  town-meeting  is  replaced  by  the  gov- 
ernment of  mayor  and  council. 

There  is,  furthermore,  reason  to  believe  that  the 
formation  of  large,  dense,  complex  bodies  of  popula- 
tion is  favorable  to  the  growth  of  a  belief  in  the 
rights  of  man  as  man  and  to  the  spread  of  ideas  of 
human  equality,  i.  e.,  of  the  habits  of  thought  that 
underlie  individualism  and  democracy. 

So  far,  the  growth  of  population  has  been  assumed  ^ 
to  proceed  at  an  equal  rate  throughout  society.     If, 
now,  it  be  assumed  that  the  rate  of  increase  is  sen- 
sibly unequal,  a  new  set  of  consequences  appears. 

*  Mommsen,  "History  of  Rome,"  vol.  II,  p.  384. 
'Ibid.,  vol.  Ill,  pp.  451-453. 

'  Richter,  "Annalen  der  deutschen  Geschichte  im  Mittel- 
alter,"  pp.  1 19-120. 

215 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY  ^ 

The  resulting  inequality  of  pressure — providing  the 
distribution  of  life-opportunities  remains  the  same — 
will  cause  people  to  pass  from  class  to  class  and 
from  place  to  place.  City  dwellers  never  keep 
abreast  of  country  dwellers  in  reproduction,  and 
hence  the  city  has  constantly  to  be  fed  with  the  over- 
flow from  the  farms.  One  consequence  is  that  the 
city  never  becomes  traditional  and  static,  as  it  might 
well  do  if  it  grew  from  its  own  loins.  Another  re- 
sult is  the  gradual  depletion  of  the  eugenic  capital 
of  the  rural  population — e.  g,,  the  increasing  brachy- 
cephaly  of  France  within  historic  times — owing  to 
the  continual  drain  of  its  best  elements  to  the  cities. 
As  the  towns  draw  from  the  fields,  so  the  fertile  val- 
leys, sterilized  by  their  very  prosperity,  draw  from 
the  barren  uplands  streams  of  migrants  representing 
the  peoples  beaten  in  ancient  conquests. 

It  may  happen  that  the  distinct  types  in  the  popu- 
lation— the  martial  and  the  industrial,  the  imagina- 
tive and  the  calculating,  the  "ideo-motor"  and  the 
"critical-intellectual"  —  come  under  diverse  influ- 
ences which  make  their  rates  of  reproduction  un- 
equal, and  so  change  their  numerical  proportions. 
Every  such  shifting  of  the  predominant  type  is 
marked  by  important  vicissitudes  in  society. 

The  unequal  increase  of  population  on  the  oppo- 
site sides  of  a  frontier  finally  sets  up  a  current  of 
migration  which  replaces  one  race,  language,  or  civ- 
ilization by  another,  thereby  entailing  changes  in 
society.  If  the  frontier  is  a  political  one,  the  move- 
ment is  likely  to  take  the  form  of  an  armed  invasion, 
216 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

and  the  society  must  sustain  the  shock  of  war.  It 
is  now  understood  that  the  assaults  of  the  Germans 
upon  the  Roman  Empire  were  prompted  by  over- 
population, and  the  eventual  failure  to  withstand 
them  was  due  to  the  fact  that  infecundity  had  re- 
duced the  Empire  to  a  hollow  shell. 

11.  The  Accumulation  of  Wealth. — The  progress 
of  wealth,  and  the  expansion  of  income  which  at- 
tends the  control  of  a  growing  mass  of  capital,  have 
a  transforming  effect  on  society.  Even  a  general 
movement  of  prosperity  shared  in  by  all  is  a  dy- 
namic factor.  The  enlarged  production  shows 
itself,  not  along  the  entire  line  of  commodities,  but 
chiefly  in  the  higher  grades  of  goods,  and  in  com- 
forts and  luxuries.  These  qualitative  changes  in 
production  cannot  but  result  in  the  transfer  of  labor 
and  capital  from  certain  occupations  to  others,  from 
extractive  to  elaborative  industries,  from  the  pro- 
duction of  goods  to  the  supplying  of  services,  from 
certain  centers  and  regions  to  other  centers  and 
regions.  Manufactures  and  foreign  trade  will  be 
stimulated.  Redistributions  of  population  will  take 
place  between  country  and  city,  between  districts 
producing  necessaries  and  districts  that  produce 
luxuries.  The  preponderating  importance  of  capi- 
tal enhances  the  sacredness  of  property  in  law  and 
in  morals,  strengthens  government  as  a  property- 
protecting  agency,  and  exalts  the  virtues  of  frugal- 
ity and  thrift. 

At  the  same  time,  the  enlarged  consumption  of 
goods  tends  to  bring  about  social  changes.  Crime 
217 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

becomes  less  serious  than  vice,  so  that  moral  injunc- 
tions aim  less  to  restrain  men  from  aggression  than 
to  fortify  them  against  the  temptations  to  over-in- 
dulgence. Human  depravity  is  doubted,  and  belief 
in  future  retribution  dies  out.  The  God  of  Fear 
yields  to  the  God  of  Love.  In  worship,  praise  gains 
at  the  expense  of  prayer.  To  guide  men,  amid  the 
greater  variety  of  consumables,  toward  certain  har- 
monious groupings  of  goods,  numerous  standards 
of  consumption  are  erected. 
y  It  is  hardly  to  be  expected,  however,  that  in  the 
accumulation  of  capital  all  portions  of  society  will 
participate  to  the  same  degree.  Some  will  distance 
others,  and  those  who  thus  become  differentiated 
from  the  rest  in  respect  to  possessions  will  eventu- 
ally segregate  into  a  distinct  social  class.  For  capi- 
tal is  not  merely  economic  power ;  it  is  latent  social 
pozuer.  Those  of  superabundant  wealth  in  time 
convert  portions  of  it  into  political  power,  legal 
privileges,  and  invidious  social  preferences  and  ex- 
emptions, all  serving  to  mark  them  off  from  the  rest 
of  the  community.  In  other  words,  an  aristocracy 
may  originate,  quite  apart  from  conquest,  quite 
apart  from  royal  grace,  in  the  mere  fact  of  superior 
riches.  'The  heroes  of  the  Homeric  poems,"  says 
Maine,^  "are  not  only  valiant,  but  wealthy ;  the  war- 
riors of  the  Nibelungen  Lied  are  not  only  noble,  but 
rich.  In  the  later  Greek  literature  we  find  pride  of 
birth  identified  with  pride  in  seven  wealthy  ances- 
tors."    Among  the  ancient  Irish  the  nobles  are  in 

"^Op.  cit.,  p.  134. 

218 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

seven  grades,  distinguished  chiefly  by  wealth.  At 
the  bottom  of  the  scale  is  the  Aire-desa  and  "the 
Brehon  law  provides  that  when  the  Bo-Aire  has 
acquired  twice  the  wealth  of  an  Aire-desa  and  has 
held  it  for  a  certain  number  of  generations,  he  be- 
comes an  Aire-desa  himself."^  The  possession  of 
resources  sufficient  to  enable  one  to  fight  on  horse- 
back rather  than  on  foot  has  become  the  germ  of 
knighthood  the  world  over.  Out  of  it  grew  the 
Greek  hip  pets,  the  Roman  Equestrian  Order,  the 
Gaulish  equites,  and  the  mediaeval  knighthoods. 

The  appearance  of  a  body  of  wealthy  persons 
overthrows  that  primitive  political  equality  of  citi- 
zens based  upon  their  like  capacity  to  bear  arms  in 
defense  of  the  commonwealth.  Clients  and  retain- 
ers multiply,  and  these  natural  partisans  of  the  rich 
undermine  the  burgess  class.  Not  only  is  the  pos- 
session of  great  wealth  generally  felt  to  afford  a 
presumption  of  superiority,  but  the  position  of  the 
poorer  citizens  is  weakened  by  their  economic  de- 
pendence. "It  is  by  taking  stock  that  the  free  Irish 
tribesman  becomes  the  Ceile  or  Kyle,  the  vassal  or 
man  of  his  chief,  owing  him  not  only  rent,  but  ser- 
vice and  homage."^  Meanwhile,  the  proprietors, 
freed  from  labor,  devote  themselves  to  war  and  poli- 
tics, and,  since  they  are  well  accoutred  and  expert 
in  weapons,  they  finally  prove  themselves  more  than 
a  match  for  the  plebs. 

Besides  political  inequality,  the  differentiation  by 


^  Maine,  op.  cit.,  p.  136. 
'Ibid., -p.  158. 


219 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

possessions  entails  various  other  secondary  forms 
of  differentiation.  Service  in  the  Roman  cavalry, 
originally  obligatory  upon  all  who  could  furnish 
two  horses,  became  after  a  time  a  badge  of  superi- 
ority. Men  of  standing  remained  in  the  cavalry 
after  they  had  become  incapacitated  by  age. 
"Young  men  of  rank  more  and  more  withdrew  from 
serving  in  the  infantry,  and  the  legionary  cavalry 
became  a  close  aristocratic  corps."^  By  the  time  of 
Sulla  the  dying  out  of  the  sturdy  farmer  class  and 
the  formation  of  an  urban  rabble  had  converted  the 
Roman  army  "from  a  burgess  force  into  a  set  of 
mercenaries  who  showed  no  fidelity  to  the  state  at 
all,  and  proved  faithful  to  the  officer  only  when  he 
had  the  skill  personally  to  gain  their  attachment."^ 
Finally  the  rich  come  to  feel  that  wealth  ought  to 
buy  its  possessor  clear  of  every  onerous  duty.  In 
Caesar's  time  "in  the  soldiery  not  a  trace  of  the  bet- 
ter classes  could  any  longer  be  discovered.  In  law 
the  general  obligation  to  bear  arms  still  subsisted; 
but  the  levy  took  place  in  the  most  irregular  and  un- 
fair manner.  Numerous  persons  liable  to  serve 
were  wholly  passed  over The  Roman  bur- 
gess cavalry  now  merely  vegetated  as  a  sort  of 
mounted  noble  guard,  whose  perfumed  cavaliers 
and  exquisite  high-bred  horses  only  played  a  part 
in  the  festivals  of  the  capital ;  the  so-called  burgess 
infantry  was  a  troop  of  mercenaries,  swept  together 

*Mommsen,  op.  cit.,  vol.  II,  p.  379. 
*Jbid.,  vol.  Ill,  p.  455. 

220 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

from  the  lowest  ranks  of  the  burgess  population."^ 
'Other  differentiations  are  connected  with  certain 
ideas  which  naturally  strike  root  in  a  society  marked 
by  great  pecuniary  inequality.  One  is  the  notion 
that  it  is  disgraceful  to  take  money  for  work.  The 
effect  of  this  is  to  raise  a  wall  of  partition  between 
the  laborer  or  artisan  and  the  respectable  landlord 
or  manufacturer,  between  the  private  and  the  officer, 
between  the  clerk  and  the  magistrate.  Akin  to  this 
is  the  idea  that  labor  is  not  respectable.  Springing 
up  among  the  wealthy  after  they  have  withdrawn 
from  all  public  duties  and  become  a  leisure  class 
pure  and  simple,  this  notion,  descending  through 
society  by  deferential  imitation,  aggregates  the  dis- 
content and  envy  of  the  poor,  and  causes  work  to  be 
shunned  as  much  on  account  of  its  stigma  as  on  ac- 
count of  its  irksomeness.  Finally  comes  the  notion 
that  human  worth  is  measured,  not  by  achievements 
or  personal  qualities,  hut  by  the  scale  of  consump- 
tion. This  exalts  pecuniary  emulation  above  all 
other  forms  of  rivalry,  and  engenders  a  host  of 
purely  factitious  wants  which  call  into  being  an  in- 
sensate luxury  at  the  top  of  society ;  then,  percolat- 
ing down  through  the  social  strata,  these  wants  di- 
vert a  serious  proportion  of  income  from  the  service 
of  real  human  needs.  The  joint  operation  of  these 
principles  eventually  raises  the  craving  for  wealth 
to  an  extravagant  pitch  and  depresses  the  worth  of 
everything  else.  These  effects  appeared  most 
nakedly  in  the  Rome  of  the  last  age  of  the  republic, 

*  Monlmscn,  op.  cit.,  vol.  IV,  p.  581. 
221 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

where  the  slave  economy  had  completely  wiped  out 
the  middle  class.  Says  Mommsen:  "To  be  poor 
was  not  merely  the  sorest  disgrace  and  the  worst 
crime,  but  the  only  disgrace  and  the  only  crime ;  for 
money  the  statesman  sold  the  state  and  the  burgess 
sold  his  freedom ;  the  post  of  the  officer  and  the  vote 
of  the  juryman  were  to  be  had  for  money;  for 
money  the  lady  of  quality  surrendered  her  person  as 
well  as  the  common  courtesan ;  the  falsifying  of  doc- 
uments and  perjuries  had  become  so  common  that 
in  a  popular  poet  of  this  age  an  oath  is  called  *the 
plaster  for  debts/  Men  had  forgotten  what  honesty 
was;  a  person  who  refused  a  bribe  was  regarded, 
not  as  an  upright  man,  but  as  a  personal  foe."^ 
There  was  "nothing  to  bridge  over  or  soften  the 
fatal  contrast  between  the  world  of  the  beggars  and 
the  world  of  the  rich."*  "The  wider  the  chasm  by 
which  the  two  worlds  were  externally  divided,  the 
more  completely  they  coincided  in  the  like  annihila- 
tion of  family  life  ....  in  the  like  laziness  and 
luxury,  the  like  unsubstantial  economy,  the  like 
unmanly  dependence,  the  like  corruption  differing 
only  in  its  scale,  the  like  criminal  demoralization, 
the  like  longing  to  begin  the  war  with  property."* 

The  misery  of  the  multitude  was  such  that  free 
men  not  infrequently  sold  themselves  to  the  con- 
tractors for  board  and  wages  as  gladiatorial  slaves. 
The  obsequious  deference  of  legal  canons  to  eco- 
nomic realities  appears  from  the  fact  that  the  juris- 

*  Op.  eit.,  vol.  IV,  p.  6 1 6. 
*Ibid.,-p.  621. 

222 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

consults  of  the  period  pronounced  lawful  and  action- 
able the  contract  of  such  a  gladiatorial  slave  "to  let 
himself  be  chained,  scourged,  burned,  or  killed, 
without  opposition,  if  the  laws  of  the  institution 
should  so  require." 

Changes  in  taste,  the  growth  and  redistribution 
of  population,  the  shifting  of  trade  routes,  mechan- 
ical inventions,  discovery  of  natural  deposits,  or  in- 
crease in  local  security,  cause  wealth  to  well  up  at 
new  spots  or  to  come  into  new  hands.  If  it  is  true 
that  capital  is  a  kind  of  crude  power  which  may  be 
refined,  transmuted  and  differentiated  into  nearly 
all  forms  of  the  Desirable,  then  New  Wealth  will 
be  pregnant  with  social  change.  Such,  indeed,  is 
the  fact.  The  first  full-fledged  aristocracy  is  based 
on  agricultural  profits,  for  among  the  sources  of 
early  revenue  land  alone  possesses  that  stability 
which  is  necessary  in  order  that  the  merely  rich  may 
ripen  into  a  true  nobility.  If,  however,  by  the  side 
of  the  blue-blooded  territorial  aristocracy  there 
forms  a  considerable  body  of  plebeian  rich,  the  social 
structure  is  at  once  subject  to  a  strain  which  sooner 
or  later  will  modify  it.  It  matters  not  whether  the 
source  of  these  fortunes  be  piracy,  commerce,  man- 
ufacture, colonial  exploitation,  tax-farming,  or 
finance;  money  is  power  and  ultimately  contrives 
to  register  itself  in  super-economic  forms.  The 
fall  of  the  Greek  aristocracies  was  due  to  the  for- 
tunes made  in  commerce,  navigation  and  manufac- 
ture. The  Eupatrids,  absorbed'  in  war  and  politics 
and  content  to  leave  the  working  of  their  land  to 
223 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

serfs,  were  confronted  by  new  men  who,  by  clearing 
and  inclosure,  sometimes  by  marriage,  had  become 
owners  of  landed  estates.  The  assault  of  these  up- 
starts on  the  political  monopoly  of  the  old  territorial 
nobility  began  the  movement  which  ended  at  last  in 
democracy.  Thucydides  declares  that  the  increase 
in  the  number  of  people  of  means  brought  about  an 
irresistible  demand  for  a  larger  participation  in  gov- 
ernment, and  that  this  triumph  of  property  over  birth 
occurred  usually  in  states  where  property  was  most 
diffused,  and  where  maritime  commerce,  industry, 
and  financial  speculation  were  most  developed. 
Caius  Graccus  carried  his  reforms  and  broke  down 
the  governing  aristocracy  of  Rome  by  turning  over 
to  the  rich  speculator  and  merchant  class,  that  had 
grown  up  outside  the  old  senatorial  nobility,  the 
farming  of  all  the  Asiatic  provinces  and  the  con- 
trol of  the  jury  courts. 

In  the  Middle  Ages  flourishing  commercial  or 
mining  towns  bought  of  their  lords  the  grant  of  spe- 
cial rights  and  immunities,  and  thus  virtually  ran- 
somed themselves  out  of  the  feudal  system.  In 
France  the  first  extra-feudal  fortunes  originated  in 
the  farming  of  taxes.  Later,  cornmerce  and  manu- 
facturing created  a  wealthy  class  upon  which  the 
monarch  constantly  leaned  when  extending  his  au- 
thority at  the  expense  of  the  feudal  seigneurs. 
About  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century  the 
proud  Duke  of  Sully  laments^  that  "at  this  day  .  .  . 
when  everything  is  rated  by  the  money  which  it 

*  "Memoirs,"  vol.  II,  p.  222. 

224 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

brings,  this  generous  body  of  nobility  is  brought  into 
comparison  with  the  managers  of  the  revenue,  the 
officers  of  justice,  and  the  drudges  of  business." 
Finally,  can  anyone  doubt  that  the  strong  tendency 
in  the  new  extra-European  societies  toward  popular 
government  and  the  democratic  spirit  finds  at  least 
one  of  its  ultimate  roots  in  the  diffusion  of  oppor- 
tunities to  accumulate  property  brought  about  by  the 
presence  of  free  land? 

HI.  Migration  to  a  New  Environment. — Here 
again  we  have  two  cases:  (a)  when  the  new  (phys- 
ical) environment  is  similar  to  the  old;  (b)  when  it 
is  essentially  different.  The  first  is  exemplified 
when  colonies  are  established  on  the  same  parallel 
or,  better  yet,  on  the  same  isotherm  with  the  mother- 
country.  Here  the  chief  cause  why  the  new  society 
varies  from  the  old  is  the  fact  that  in  the  colony 
the  proportion  between  people  and  land  is  totally  dif- 
ferent from  that  in  the  home  country.  Coming  from 
an  old,  highly  diversified  and  differentiated  society, 
the  colonists,  owing  to  the  abundance  of  their  land, 
find  themselves  throw^n  back  into  the  stage  of  ex- 
tensive agriculture,  or  even  of  herdsmanship. 
Moreover,  being  more  favorable  to  production  than 
to  consumption,  the  colony  attracts  the  active,  but 
contains  few  persons  living  on  incomes  derived  ex- 
clusively from  ownership.  For  these  reasons  the 
new  society  by  no  means  reproduces  all  the  charac- 
teristics of  the  mother-society.  Labor  is  honored. 
Achievement  rather  than  enjoyment  is  its  ideal  of 
life.  Vigor  and  efficiency  are  more  esteemed  than 
IS  225 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

graces  and  refinements.  The  lack  of  cities,  of  inter- 
course, and  of  leisure  is  unfavorable  to  the  cultiva- 
tion of  the  sciences  or  the  fine  arts.  The  scarcity 
of  labor  is  apt  to  lead  to  the  enslavement  of  weaker 
races.  The  community  being-  little  differentiated 
economically  or  socially,  manhood  rather  than  prop- 
erty controls  the  commonwealth,  the  temper  is  indi- 
vidualistic and  liberty-loving,  and  popular  institu- 
tions take  root.  Equality  before  the  law  is  insisted 
on.  Primogeniture  is  renounced.  The  state  has  lit- 
tle power  to  withstand  public  opinion.  The  spell  of 
tradition  is  broken  and  the  hereditary  principle  is 
weak.  The  spirit  of  society  is  either  humanitarian 
or  plutocratic,  but  not  aristocratic. 

Owing  to  the  growth  of  numbers,  however,  such 
a  society  will  in  time  approximate  -  the  mother- 
society,  unless  its  early  spirit  becomes  so  crystallized 
in  ideals  and  institutions  as  to  control  its  later  de- 
velopment. If,  on  the  other  hand,  migration  takes 
place  to  an  unlike  physical  environment — as  when 
northerners  occupy  a  tropical  island,  mountaineers 
descend  to  the  seacoast,  or  a  maritime  people  re- 
moves to  an  inland  plateau — the  new  social  develop- 
ment may  be  quite  tangent  to  the  old.  Here  the 
chief  transforming  factor  is  not  Climate  or  Aspect 
of  Nature  working  directly  on  people,  but  radical 
change  of  occupation,  working  first  on  habits  and 
ideas,  and  then  on  social  relationships  and  institu- 
tions. What  the  direction  of  variation  will  be  it  is, 
of  course,  impossible  to  predict,  unless  the  nature 
of  the  new  environment  is  specified. 
226 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

IV.  The  Innovating  Individual.  —  While  the 
growth  of  numbers  or  the  accumulation  of  wealth 
seems  to  move  all  societies  through  the  same  series 
of  stages,  their  dependence  on  inventions  forbids  us 
to  look  for  a  single  route  of  development  traversed 
by  all  peoples.  For,  since  inventions  have  no  fixed 
order  of  appearance,  the  succession  of  social 
changes,  so  far  as  it  is  controlled  by  them,  is  not 
law-abiding,  and  cannot  be  predicted. 

The  innovating  individual,  as  a  factor  of  social 
change,  needs  to  be  clearly  distinguished  from  the 
Great  Man  who  in  the  pre-scientific  days  held  the 
center  of  the  stage.  We  are  coming  to  recognize 
that  most  of  the  important  achievements  from  the 
plow  and  the  loom  to  the  steam  engine  and  the  tele- 
graph may  be  resolved  into  a  long  series  of  very 
short  steps  which  were  taken  one  after  another,  fre- 
quently by  different  individuals,  separated  perhaps 
by  wide  intervals  of  time  and  space.  To  make 
Tubal-Cain  stand  for  the  working  of  metals,  Guten- 
berg for  printing,  and  Watts  for  the  steam  engine 
is  like  attributing  the  Pentateuch  to  Moses,  the 
Psalms  to  David,  and  the  Iliad  to  Homer.  The  pop- 
ular mind  spares  itself  effort  by  crediting  the  house 
to  the  man  who  lays  the  last  tile  and  allowing  his  co- 
workers to  drop  out  of  view.  History,  however, 
far  from  gratifying  these  hero-worshiping  propensi- 
ties, shows  that  nearly  every  truth  or  mechanism  is 
the  fusion  of  a  large  number  of  original  ideas  pro- 
ceeding from  numerous  collaborators,  most  of  whom 
have  been   forgotten.      The   resolving   of  human 

Z2.7 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

achievement  into  the  contributions  of  tens  of  tiious- 
ands  of  innovating  individuals  has,  therefore,  little 
in  common  with  the  theory  of  progress  that  gives 
the  glory  to  a  few  Great  Men. 

Nor  can  it  be  granted,  as  some  insist,  that  every 
social  variation  comes  about  by  the  generalizing  of 
some  individual's  invention.  To  be  sure,  the  fire 
drill,  the  gun,  or  the  printing  press  existed  as  a 
thought  before  it  existed  as  a  fact.  Each  of  the  lit- 
tle inventive  exploits  which  fuse  into  an  achieve- 
ment like  articulate  speech,  or  the  art  of  building, 
or  the  sewing  machine,  can  be  traced  to  an  individual 
mind.  It  originates  in  a  unique  thought,  not  a  more 
or  less  of  something.  It  is  not  a  chance  outcome  of 
the  activities  of  several  individuals.  On  the  other 
hand,  a  social  custom,  relationship,  institution,  or 
grouping  need  not  be  conceived  in  thought  before  it 
exists  in  reality.  It  may  be  an  unconscious  devel- 
opment, the  casual  resultant  of  diverse  factors.  It 
may  come  about  because  the  sum  of  the  plus  forces 
has  come  to  exceed  the  sum  of  the  minus  forces. 
Aristotle  feels  justified  in  distinguishing  monarchy, 
aristocracy,  and  democracy,  and  in  regarding  the 
passage  from  one  form  to  another  as  social  change. 
Yet  the  basis  for  his  classification  of  governments  is 
purely  quantitative  difference — whether  power  is  in 
the  hands  of  the  One,  the  Few,  or  the  Many.  The 
town  is  a  distinct  social  formation,  yet  it  arises  with- 
out forethought  by  man  after  man  leaving  his  clod 
and  going  where  Opportunity  beckons.  Spontane- 
ous, likewise,  is  the  origm  of  the  division  of  labor 
228 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

between  districts  and  between  crafts.  After  tillage 
is  begun,  the  blood-bond  grows  into  the  place-bond ; 
but  who  would  think  of  saying  that  the  hollow  log 
grows  into  the  canoe,  or  the  candle  grows  into  the 
arc  light  ?  The  economist  sharply  contrasts  custom 
and  competition,  yet  the  transition  from  the  one  to 
the  other  never  comes  about  through  an  individual's 
initiative.  Polygamy  and  monogamy  were  not  in- 
vented, nor  did  divorce  begin  with  some  bold  spirit, 
as  did  tracheotomy  and  the  use  of  ether.  No  one 
now  believes  that  slavery  came  or  went  with  a  shift- 
ing of  speculative  ideas.  The  proverbial  impotency 
of  preaching  shows  that  the  standards  which  fix  the 
moral  plane  of  a  people  do  not  ordinarily  spread 
abroad  from  some  ethical  innovator,  but  spring  nat- 
urally from  the  life-situation  in  which  the  majority 
find  themselves. 

Again,  it  is  an  error  to  suppose  that  the  series  of  -f 
transforming  innovations  are  as  many  and  as  dis- 
tinct as  are  the  orders  of  social  phenomena.  This 
assumption  overlooks  the  consensus  that  binds  to- 
gether the  spheres  of  social  life.  Religion  is 
changed  not  only  by  distinctively  religious  innova- 
tions, but  also  by  the  influence  of  transformations 
wrought  by  mechanical  inventions.  A  readjustment 
of  the  family  relations  may  be  brought  about  by  the 
state,  which  has  become  powerful  enough  to  inter- 
vene in  domestic  matters  because  an  invention  like 
gunpowder,  which  gives  the  Attack  an  advantage 
over  the  Defense,  makes  for  political  integration. 
Sometimes  the  long  chain  of  social  causes  reminds  ^ 
229 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

one  of  the  way  cats  favor  stock-raising.  The  cats 
keep  down  the  mice  which  destroy  the  nests  of  the 
bumblebees  which  fertilize  the  blossoms  of  the 
clover  that  fattens  the  cattle. 

.  Between  the  orders  of  social  phenomena  the  causal 
currents  run  every  way,  but  it  is  likely  that  by  far  the 
greater  number  radiate  from  two  primary  centers, 
viz.,  the  series  of  conceptual  changes — the  religio- 
scientific  innovations — and  the  series  of  practical 
changes — the  industrial-military  inventions.  Here 
originate  the  chief  determining  influences  which  re- 
verberate throughout  society.    The  ultimate  cause 

^  of  ethical  change  is  rarely  a  new  ideal  of  conduct. 
Few  political  changes  are  wrought  by  the  promulga- 
tion of  a  new  principle  or  the  invention  of  a  new 
expedient.     Artistic  progress  is  usually  referable  to 

.  new  knowledge  or  to  new  wealth.  Most  of  the 
transforming  impulses  that  have  their  origin  in  cul- 
ture appear  to  radiate  from  (a)  the  invention  of 
labor-saving  devices,  (b)  the  improvement  of  the 
means  of  transport  and  communication,  (c)  new 
conceptions  of  the  Unseen,  and  (d)  the  discovery 
of  scientific  truth. 

The  key  to  the  paradox  that  the  strictly  social 
changes  originate  less  in  political,  ethical,  and  es- 
thetic innovations  than  in  industrial  inventions,  geo- 

^  graphical  discoveries,  and  scientific  or  speculative 
ideas,  is  the  fact  that  the  latter  are  condition-making. 
Since  there  is  no  herdsmanship  without  the  taming 
of  animals,  no  agriculture  without  the  domestication 
of  plants,  no  water  communication  without  the  boat, 
230 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

no  sea  commerce  without  the  compass,  invention  has 
much  to  do  with  that  expansion  of  population  or  of 
wealth  which,  as  above  shown,  is  so  pregnant  with 
social  change.  The  modes  of  production,  moreover, 
act  directly  upon  the  size  and  structure  of  the  family 
and  the  working  group.  The  inventions  pertaining 
to  warfare  have  been  fateful  for  the  replacement  of 
the  less  ingenious  races  by  the  more  ingenious  and 
for  the  development  of  all  forms  of  subordination 
and  race-parasitism.  Every  martial  invention,  ac- 
cording as  it  has  favored  the  Attack  or  the  Defense, 
has  disturbed  the  balance  between  great  states  and 
small  states,  between  central  government  and  local 
groups,  between  exploiters  and  exploited.  Next  in 
rank  are  the  inventions  that  have  facilitated  trans- 
portation and  communication  —  wheeled  vehicle, 
boat,  sail,  compass,  rail,  steam.  Besides  their  ob- 
vious economic  effects,  these  have  called  into  being 
that  center  of  radiation,  the  city,  promoted  far- 
reaching  diffusions  and  rapid  assimilations,  hastened 
blendings  of  blood  and  crossings  of  cultures,  abol- 
ished frontiers,  widened  the  areas  of  peace,  favored 
the  formation  of  vast  political  units,  and  superseded 
local  association  by  national  and  international  asso- 
ciation. More  than  this,  they  necessarily  accelerate 
progress  by  merging  the  peoples  into  a  great  human 
ocean  that  promptly  transmits  to  all  parts  all  the 
progressive  impulses  arising  in  each  of  the  parts. 
Thus,  at  last,  every  section  of  mankind  is  served,  not 
only  by  its  own  inventive  spirits,  but  by  all  the  pro- 
ductive geniuses  of  the  whole  human  race.  Finally 
231 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

come  the  condition-making  inventions  embodied  in 
languages,  sciences,  and  speculations.  Languages 
support  the  inter-mental  activities  by  which  large 
groups  of  like-minded  are  formed.  The  building  of 
physical  concepts  and  generalizations  is  indispen- 
sable to  the  progress  of  mechanical  invention.  Spec- 
ulations regarding  the  Unseen  have  been  of  utmost 
moment,  because  they  determine  to  what  extent  in- 
stitutions and  groupings  shall  be  bound  up  with  the 
gods.  After  a  certain  stage  of  conceptual  thought  is 
reached,  the  revolutions  in  ideas  wrought  by  proph- 
ets and  founders  of  religion  become  almost  as  strik- 
ing in  their  social  effects  as  the  revolutions  in  the 
mode  of  production  wrought  by  mechanical  inven- 
tors. 

Not  always,  however,  are  the  social  transforma- 
tions wrought  by  innovators,  unintended  by-products 
of  their  thinking.  In  some  cases  a  new  institution, 
relation,  or  grouping  springs  directly  from  the  indi- 
vidual mind.  The  Hebrew  prophets  who  originated 
worship  without  sacrifice,  and  the  Reformers  who 
proclaimed  "justification  by  faith,"  consciously  sev- 
ered the  tie  that  binds  layman  to  priest.  With  his 
principle  that  the  ties  of  kinship  should  be  wholly 
subordinated  to  the  ties  of  belief,  Mahomet  gave  a 
new  basis  to  Arab  society.  Caesar  was  a  social  in- 
ventor when  he  established  the  principle  that  insolv- 
ency shall  not  cost  the  debtor  his  freedom.  So  was 
St.  Paul  when  he  conceived  that  the  gospel  was  for 
Gentiles  as  well  as  for  Jews.  So  was  St.  Benedict 
when  he  devised  the  "Rule"  that  gave  form  to  the 
232 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

innumerable  monastic  communities  of  Western  Eu- 
rope. So  was  Hildebrand  when  he  imposed  sacer- 
dotal celibacy  upon  the  church.  If  we  may  believe 
Maine,  the  strong  feeling  among  the  Latin  peoples 
m  favor  of  portioning  daughters  is  "descended  by  a 
long  chain  of  succession  from  the  obligatory  pro- 
visions of  the  marriage  laws  of  the  emperor  Augu- 
stus." Whoever  conceived  this  Lex  Julia  et  Papia 
Poppcea  was  in  reality  a  social  Edison.  Pythagoras, 
St.  Francis,  and  Loyola  originated  new  types  of  re- 
ligious con-fraternity.  Henry  IV  instituted  the  in- 
valid soldiers'  home.  Grotius  modified  the  rela- 
tions of  nations.  Robert  Raikes  invented  the  Sun- 
day school,  Toynbee  the  social  settlement,  Le  Claire 
the  profit-sharing  group,  Raffeisen  and  Schulze- 
Delitzsch  the  cooperative  credit  association.  Fine! 
and  Tuke  invented  the  modern  insane  hospital,  Mar- 
beau,  the  creche,  Howard  and  his  successors,  the 
reformatory. 

We  know,  moreover,  that  the  evolution  of  lazv  is 
determined,  not  only  by  the  development  of  social 
needs,  but  also  by  the  original  conceptions  and  ideas 
of  individuals.  Deuteronomy  is  a  reformers'  code 
embodying  their  ideals  of  law.  Roman  law  was  de- 
veloped by  the  jurisconsults,  the  commentators,  and 
the  praetors.  Mohammedan  law  has  been  built  up 
by  the  Muftis,  or  doctors  of  law  versed  in  the  Koran. 
English  law  owes  much  to  the  decisions  conceived  by 
innovating  judges  or  suggested  by  ingenious  law- 
yers. The  Code  Napoleon  is  virtually  a  codification 
of  Pothier's  commentaries  on  the  Civil  Law.     Fur- 

233 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

thermore,  the  juridical  speculations  of  Kant  and 
Bentham  have  had  far-reaching  practical  effects. 

V.  The  Contact  and  Cross-fertilization  of  Cul- 
tures.— ^A  society  may  be  swerved  from  its  natural 
orbit  by  borrowing  institutions  which  have  originat- 
ed— whether  by  innovation  or  by  adaptation — in 
some  other  society.  We  have  only  to  recall  how  the 
Christian  Church,  Roman  law,  the  feudal  tenure, 
parliamentary  government,  the  jury  system,  and  the 
federal  principle  spread  by  imitation  far  beyond  their 
original  habitat.  The  Servian  constitution  of  the 
Romans,  which  laid  the  duty  of  military  service  upon 
the  possessors  of  land  instead  of  upon  the  burgesses 
alone,  was  evidently,  says  Mommsen,  "produced  un- 
der Greek  influence."  Marcus  Aurelius  borrowed 
from  the  Germans  the  status  of  serfs  or  liti.  The 
centralized  government  of  Louis  XIV.  found  imita- 
tors all  over  Europe.  The  spectacle  of  free  institu- 
tions across  the  Channel  was  fatal  to  the  old  regime 
in  France.  The  abolition  of  slavery,  as  now  the 
woman's  movement  and  social  legislation,  spread 
largely  by  national  example.  A  true  social  evolu- 
tion obeying  resident  forces  has  nearly  disappeared 
from  the  face  of  the  earth,  seeing  that  to-day  the 
germs  of  every  new  social  arrangement  are  blown 
throughout  the  world,  and  peoples  at  the  most  di- 
verse stages  of  culture  are  discarding  their  native 
institutions  and  eagerly  adopting  the  jurisprudence, 
the  laws,  and  the  organization  of  the  most  advanced 
societies.  - 

Such  open-mindedness  is,  however,  a  rather  re- 
234 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

cent  phenomenon.  Usually  the  peoples  have  reject- 
ed alien  institutions,  but  borrowed  alien  elements 
of  culture,  which,  nevertheless,  in  time  are  likely  to 
work  social  transformations.  When  a  backward 
people  is  in  contact  with  a  highly  cultured  one,  there 
occurs  simple  borrowing,  but  when  the  peoples  are 
nearly  abreast  on  different  lines  of  development,  one 
fructifies  the  other  and  a  higher  culture  results. 
Just  as  the  crossing  of  two  strains  may  yield  a  crea- 
ture superior  to  either,  so  the  crossing  of  two  cul- 
tures in  the  minds  of  an  elite  may  initiate  a  superior 
civilization.  One  reason  is  that  contact  with  a  cul- 
ture not  too  unlike  one's  own  produces  that  open- 
mindedness  so  essential  to  progress.  Another  is 
that  by  retaining  what  is  best  in  its  own  culture  and 
replacing  its  poorer  elements  with  superior  elements 
from  an  alien  culture,  a  people  may  create  a  blend 
surpassing  both  civilizations.  Finally,  the  meeting 
in  originative  minds  of  dissimilar  ideas  or  ideals  may 
fecundate  thought  and  produce  a  flood  of  inventions. 
It  is  thus  that  the  meeting  of  Orient  and  Occident 
engendered  neo-Platonism,  and  the  mutual  fertiliza- 
tion of  Christian  tradition  and  classic  culture  by  the 
Revival  of  Learning  produced  the  Renaissance. 

The  story  of  Israel  strikingly  illustrates  the 
moulding  of  social  destiny  by  the  repeated  interplay 
of  foreign  influence  and  native  endowment.  The 
nomadic  Beni-Israel  learned  from  the  Canaanites 
what  they  knew  of  the  raising  of  grain,  the  culture 
of  the  vine,  the  arts  of  the  smith  and  the  potter. 
235 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Other  great  waves  of  foreign  influence  came  in  as  a 
consequence  of  Solomon's  alliances. 

The  horse  took  the  place  of  the  ass ;  metal  weapons  and 
tools  supplanted  the  rude  ones  of  flint  and  wood;  walled 
cities  arose  on  the  sites  of  the  primitive  towns  with  their 
mud  and  stone  hovels.* 

The  customs,  institutions,  and  gods  of  Eg)'pt,  Tyre, 
and  Damascus  were  also  imported  When  Ahab 
sealed  his  alliance  with  Tyre, 

new  ambitions  filled  the  minds  of  the  rude  shepherds  and 
farmers  as  they  came  into  contact  with  foreign  life  and 
civilization.  With  Phoenician  wares  and  customs  came,  in- 
evitably, Phoenician  religion.' 

This  influx  precipitated  a  conflict  between  the  rich 
and  voluptuous  Baal  worship  of  Tyre,  and  the  sim- 
ple nomadic  worship  of  Yahweh.  In  the  heat  and 
stress  of  this  long  struggle,  the  genius  of  the  great 
literary  prophets  differentiated  Yahweh,  not  only 
from  the  Syrian  Baals,  but  also  from  his  own  orig- 
inal nature.  The  tribe-god  became  the  God  of  the 
whole  world,  just  and  righteous  Himself,  and  de- 
manding justice  and  righteousness  in  His  followers. 
Although  this  burst  of  development  evoked  by 
conscious  opposition  to  an  alien  culture  followed  its 
own  lines,  the  Hebrew  religion  was  not  fixed  until 
certain  foreign  strands  had  been  woven  into  it. 
During  the  captivity  of  the  Jews 

the  literary  habits,  and  above  all  the  intense  religious  zeal 
of  their  conquerors,  the  Babylonians,  undoubtedly  influenced 
them.    The  dazzling  spectacle  of  lordly  temples  and  ot  a 

*  Kent,  "Historj"  of  the  Hebrew  People,"  vol.  I,  p.  i8o. 
'Ibid.,  vol.  II,  p.  48. 

236 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

wealthy  influential  priesthood  also  could  not  have  failed, 
indirectly  at  least,  to  foster  the  tendency  towards  ritualism.' 

From  the  Persian  religion  Judaism  received  the  idea 
of  a  resurrection  with  rewards  and  punishments, 
the  idea  of  a  hierarchy  of  messengers  (angels)  be- 
tween God  and  man,  the  figure  of  Satan  (Ahriman), 
and  possibly  the  practice  of  meeting  for  prayer,  sing- 
ing, and  reading  from  the  sacred  books. 

Another  great  cross-fertilization  occurred  after 
Alexander's  conquests  and  colonizations  in  South- 
western Asia  and  in  Egypt  had  brought  into  closest 
contact  the  two  great  currents  of  ancient  thought 
and  culture.  Much  of  the  progress  of  civilization 
during  the  succeeding  centuries  records  the  conflicts 
and  final  fusion  of  the  permanent  elements  in  each. 

Roman  law  owed  much  to  the  conjugation  of  di- 
verse culture-elements.     Says  Mr.  Bryce:^ 

The  contact  with  the  Greek  republics  of  Southern  Italy 
in  the  century  before  the  Punic  Wars  must  have  affected 
the  Roman  mind  and  contributed  to  the  ideas  which  took 

shape  in  the  jus  gentium The  extension  of  the 

sway  of  Rome  over  many  subject  peoples  had  accustomed 
the  Romans  to  other  legal  systems  than  their  own  and  had 
led  them  to  create  bodies  of  law  in  which  three  elements 
were  blent — the  purely  Roman,  the  provincial,  and  those 
general  rules  and  maxims  of  common-sense  justice  and 
utility  which  were  deemed  universally  applicable. 

Our  modern  culture  owes  much  to  successive  fer- 
mentations resulting  from  the  contact  of  diverse  ele- 
ments.    While  Western  Christendom  was  passing 

'  Kent,  "History  of  the  Jewish  People,"  vol   I,  p.  240. 
'"Studies  in  History  and  Jurisprudence,"  vol.  II,  pp.  350- 
351. 

237 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

through  its  darkest  ages,  the  Mohammedans  tool^ 
up  the  Greek  science  with  very  great  enthusiasm 
and  earnestness,  added  to  it  whatever  results  of  a 
irimilar  sort  they  could  find  among  any  of  the  othei 
peoples  with  whom  they  came  in  contact,  and  incor- 
porated fresh  developments  of  their  own.  Th( 
treasures  of  Arabic  skill  and  science,  communicatee 
to  Christendom  through  contact  with  the  Moors,  re- 
sulted in  the  burst  of  intellectual  activity  in  the  thir- 
teenth century  which  recorded  itself  in  Scholasti- 
cism. Two  centuries  later  began  that  fertilizatior 
of  the  European  mind  through  direct  contact  witl 
Greek  culture,  which  has  fixed  the  methods  and  ideal: 
of  the  thought  and  science  of  the  modern  world. 

Nor  has  the  process  at  the  eastern  focal  point  o: 
human  culture  differed  essentially  from  that  at  th< 
western.     Says  Metchnikoff  :^ 

Whatever  these  heterogeneous  tribes  have  of  civilize( 
life,  Kalmucks  of  the  Russian  steppes  and  Annamites  o 
Tonkin,  Tunguses  of  Siberia,  Manchus  of  the  Amur  an( 
the  Ussuri,  mariners  of  Fokien  and  Canton,  emanates  fron 
one  and  the  same  center  of  civilization,  the  "Land  of  th^ 
Hundred  Families."  ....  Nor  can  one  doubt  that  i 
Japan  had  not  had  the  good  fortune  to  light  her  torch  at  th< 
fire  of  the  Celestial  Empire,  she  would  perhaps  have  re 
mained  like  the  Philippines  with  their  Tagals  and  thei 
Visayas. 

VI.  The  Interaction  of  Societies.  —  The  action! 
and  reactions  among  the  parts  of  a  society  tenc 
either  to  assimilate  or  to  differentiate.  Whether  i 
takes  the  form  of  trade,  of  intellectual  commerce,  oi 

*  "La  civilisation  et  les  grands  fleuves,"  p.  331. 
238 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

of  social  intercourse,  interaction  ordinarily  brings 
about  a  mutual  modification  of  ideas  and  feelings  in 
the  direction  of  greater  agreement,  which  results  in 
a  more  perfect  solidarity.  Trade,  however,  by  lead- 
ing to  a  territorial  division  of  labor,  may  pave  the 
way  for  local  differentiation,  and  it  is  furthermore 
possible  that  social  intercourse  by  disclosing  unsus- 
pected elements  of  friction  may  inspire  antagonism 
rather  than  harmony. 

Far  more  momentous,  however,  are  the  interac- 
tions between  a  society  and  other  groups  and  masses 
in  its  environment.  These  interactions  take  the 
form  of  interchanges  of  goods  or  of  men,  and  of 
conflict. 

The  springing  up  of  commerce  between  societies 
hitherto  self-sufficing  makes  them  dependent  on  one 
another  for  certain  articles  and  so  constitutes  them 
an  enlarged  economic  unit.  Meanwhile  the  balance 
of  occupations  within  each  group  is  overthrown,  and 
the  restoration  of  equilibrium  may  not  occur  without 
some  institutional  changes.  Her  trade  with  Europe 
is  costing  India  her  famous  native  arts  and  threatens 
those  of  Japan.  In  the  fifteenth  century  the  demand 
on  the  continent  for  English  wool  resulted  in  the 
conversion  of  fields  into  sheep  pastures,  the  inclosure 
of  much  common  land,  the  raising  of  rents,  the  evic- 
tion of  customary  tenants,  a  plethora  of  labor,  and  a 
freeing  of  the  villeins  from  their  ancient  bondage. 
Cunningham  tells  us  :^ 

^  "Growth  of  English  Industry  and  Commerce,"  vol.  I,  p. 
403. 

239 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

The  slow  agricultural  revolution,  which  rendered  their 
services  less  useful  to  the  manorial  lords,  gradually  set  the 
villeins  free  by  removing  the  interest  their  masters  had  in 
retaining  their  hold  upon  them. 

Again,  it  is  the  rise  of  a  foreign  commerce  that  per- 
mits slavery  to  expand  to  wholesale  proportions. 
Negro  slavery  would  never  have  developed  to  such  a 
scale  and  gotten  such  a  hold  upon  our  South  had  not 
Europe  stood  ready  to  absorb  immense  quantities  of 
the  plantation  staple,  cotton,  and  to  supply  those 
manufactures  which  slave  labor  is  so  unfitted  to  pro- 
duce. Furthermore,  if  two  societies  that  begin  to 
exchange  are  unequally  supplied  with  the  money 
metal  and  are  therefore  on  different  price  levels,  the 
value  of  money  will  be  altered  in  both,  and  the  equi- 
librium between  borrowers  and  lenders,  capitalists 
and  producers,  may  be  temporarily  ruptured. 

The  access  of  persons  to  a  society  may  disturb  the 
balance  of  power  between  classes  and  leave  a  mark 
on  institutions.  Maine  points  out^  that  the  afflux  of 
fugitives  and  broken  men,  fuidhuirs,  enabled  the 
Irish  chief  to  fill  the  waste  lands  of  his  tribe  with  de- 
pendents who,  being  tenants-at-will  and  rack-rent- 
able, seriously  and  permanently  altered  for  the 
worse  the  position  of  the  tribesmen  who  held  stock 
of  the  chief  and  paid  him  rent.     Likewise  in  Orissa : 

So  long  as  the  land  on  an  estate  continued  to  be  twice  as 
much  as  the  hereditary  peasantry  could  till,  the  resident 
husbandmen  were  of  too  much  importance  to  be  bullied  or 
squeezed  into  discontent.    But  once  a  large  body  of  immi- 

^  "Early  History  of  Institutions,"  p.  176. 
240 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

grant  cultivptors  had  grown  up,  this  primitive  check  on  the 
landlord's  exactions  was  removed.' 

The  immense  nineteenth-century  outflow  of  West- 
ern Europeans — of  whom  more  than  twenty  mil- 
lions came  to  the  United  States  alone  in  eighty  years 
— ^has  had  a  great  share  in  the  recent  transformations 
of  European  societies.  The  settling  of  vast  fertile 
tracts  coupled  with  the  introduction  of  steam  trans- 
portation developed  an  over-sea  competition  which 
has  depressed  agricultural  profits  in  the  Old  World 
and  diminished  the  landlord's  share  of  the  produce. 
The  wages  and  status  of  the  laborer  have  been  raised, 
partly  by  the  migration  of  his  competitors,  partly  by ' 
cheaper  food  supplies  and  the  springing  up  of  manu- 
facturing industries  to  supply  the  needs  of  the  over- 
sea populations.  The  rent  receiver  has  prospered 
less  than  the  laborer  and  the  capitalist,  with  the  con- 
sequence that  the  political  and  social  domination  of 
the  land-owning  class  is  becoming  a  thing  of  the 
past,  and  the  laws  are  written  in  the  statute-book  by 
the  capitalist  with  some  prompting  from  the  laborer. 
Here  is  one  cause  at  least  of  that  seeming  inevitable- 
ness  of  democracy  which  has  mystified  those  philoso- 
phers who  imagine  that  social  destinies  are  settled 
solely  by  conflicts  of  ideas. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  enlarged  interchanges  of 
goods  and  migration  of  men  should  cause  the  cogs 
of  Orient  and  Occident  to  engage  until  they  form 
one  economic  system,  there  would  ensue  a  redistribu- 
tion of  power  among  the  classes  in  Occidental  soci- 

'  Ibid.,  p.  177.     Quoted  from  Hunter. 
16  241 


FOUNDATIONS   OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ety  that  would  aggravate  rather  than  mitigate  exist- 
ing inequalities. 

Still  more  momentous  than  the  changes  intro- 
duced by  trade  and  migration  are  those  resulting 
from  the  hostilities  of  societies.  One  of  these  ef- 
fects is  the  strengthening  of  group-cohesion.  It 
is  now  generally  believed  that  the  spread  of  feudal 
relations  during  the  Dark  Ages  was  due  to  the  fact 
that  "a  little  society  compactly  united  under  a  feudal 
lord  was  greatly  stronger  for  defense  or  attack  than 
any  body  of  kinsmen  or  co-villagers  and  than  any 
assemblage  of  voluntary  confederates/*^  and  that  the 
insecurity  following  the  break-up  of  the  Roman  Em- 
pire and  the  letting  loose,  first  of  the  barbarians  and 
later  of  the  Northmen,  drove  men  to  the  formation 
of  such  groups. 

The  Beni-Israel,  who,  after  their  settlement  in  Ca- 
naan, seemed  fated  to  disintegrate  into  local  com- 
munities, were  welded  into  a  nation  by  their  wars 
with  adjacent  peoples.  The  Greek  confederacies 
came  into  being  in  consequence  of  the  struggle  with 
Persia.  Under  the  hammer  of  war  the  Germans, 
who  presented  themselves  to  Caesar  only  in  tribal  re- 
lations, had  by  the  fifth  century  become  compacted 
into  confederations  of  tribes,  which  later  became 
homogeneous  peoples.  During  her  Hundred  Years' 
War  with  England,  France  "acquired  possession  and 
consciousness  of  her  life,  her  instincts,  her  genius, 
and  her  heart.     She  had  been  but  a  kingdom ;  she 

*  Maine,    op.   cit.,   p.    155.     See   Fustel   de   Coulanges.   "Les 
transformations  de  la  royaute,"   pp.  575-6,  586-7,  676-682. 
?/^7 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

was  now  a  nation.  The  idea  of  fatherland  had  be- 
come disengaged  in  her  soul."  The  Netherlands 
were  compacted  by  their  war  of  liberation.  In  our 
own  history  we  have  but  to  recall  the  union  of  the 
New  England  colonies  brought  about  by  King 
Philip's  War  and  the  Confederation  of  thirteen  col- 
onies formed  to  make  armed  resistance  to  Great 
Britain. 

Religious  unity  also  is  promoted  by  war.  So  long 
as  they  were  undisturbed  in  the  home  they  had  won 
for  themselves  in  Canaan,  the  Beni-Israel  were  apt 
to  succumb  to  the  seductions  of  the  local  Baal  cults. 
But  whenever  stress  and  danger  united  them  against 
a  common  foe,  their  loyalty  to  Yahweh,  the  god  of 
their  nomad  life,  was  revived.  The  waves  of  for- 
eign invasion  that  repeatedly  broke  upon  them  pre- 
vented their  assimilation  to  the  Canaanites  and  the 
consequent  failure  of  their  religious  career. 

War,  moreover,  creates  headships,  which,  in  case 
hostilities  are  prolonged,  tend  to  become  permanent 
and  political.  The  Hebrew  monarchy  owed  its  or- 
igin to  war.  During  peace  Saul  returned  to  his  own 
estate  and  lived  there  with  a  few  followers.  As  yet 
the  people  felt  hardly  any  other  obligation  to  their 
king  than  to  rally  about  him  in  time  of  danger. 
David's  conquests  and  successes,  however,  hardened 
the  monarchy  and  gave  it  that  solidity  which  enabled 
his  son  Solomon  to  supplant  the  tribal  with  the  civil 
orfyanization,  lay  taxes,  levy  corvees,  conscript 
troops,  establish  a  court,  and  create  a  new  nobility. 
Centuries  later  the  patriotic  struggle  against  Anti- 
243 


FOUNDATIONS   OF   SOCIOLOGY 

ochus  established  the  Asmonean  dynasty.  The  Ger- 
manic invasions  united  the  kingship  with  the  lead- 
ership of  the  army,  which  had  become  permanent. 
"The  military  subordination  under  the  king-leader 
furthered  political  subordination  under  the  king." 
The  Crusades,  which  were  preached  under  the  aus- 
pices of  the  popes,  tended  to  aggrandize  the  papal 
authority  within  the  church. 

The  grinding  of  people  on  people  not  only  merges 
the  civil  with  the  military  power,  but  may  unite  the 
secular  power  with  the  ecclesiastical.  Buckle  shows 
how  the  prolonged  struggle  of  the  Spaniards  with 
the  Moors  identified  the  national  creed  with  the  na- 
tional cause  and  produced  that  exaggeration  of 
orthodoxy  and  loyalty  which  was  so  fatal  to  the  in- 
tellectual freedom  of  the  Spanish  people.  The  long 
struggles  of  the  East-European  peoples  with  the 
heathen  worked  a  like  result.     Says  Sigel  :^ 

The  wars  of  Byzantium,  waged  against  the  avowed 
enemies  of  the  Orthodox  Church,  demonstrated  the  neces- 
sity of  a  close  union  of  the  State  and  the  Church. 
....  The  defense  of  itself  and  its  faith  against  the 
avowed  foes  of  Orthodoxy  led  Russian  society  to  the  ne- 
cessity of  subordinating  all  its  powers  to  the  State. 

In  various  ways  militant  activities  disturb  the  bal- 
ance of  power  between  social  classes.  For  one 
thing  the  old  nobility  by  blood  is  depressed  in  favor 
of  the  official  nobility  of  the  state. 

The  noble  by  blood  is  to  be  found  among  the  Frisians,  the 
Saxons,  the  Anglo-Saxons,  .the  Thuringians,  the  Bavarians. 

*  "Lectures  on  Slavonic  Law,"  pp.  ii,  13. 
244 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

He  is  not  to  be  found  among  the  Franks,  the  Burgundians, 
the  Goths,  and  the  Lombards,  who  have  had  a  hard  strug- 
gle to  establish  themselves  within  the  Empire.  In  the 
course  of  that  struggle  the  new  military  institution,  the  State, 
has  become  strong;  it  has  replaced  the  old  nobility  of  blood 
with  a  new  nobility  of  service.* 

In  England,  similarly,  "the  Thanes  deriving  dignity 
and  authority  from  the  King  absorb  the  older  no- 
bility of  Earls/' 

Prolonged  and  unremunerative  warfare  conduct- 
ed by  levies  of  freeholders  ruins  the  middle  class. 
The  exhausting  duel  between  Israel  and  Damascus 
produced  that  evil  state  of  affairs  which  roused  the 
prophets  Amos  and  Hosea.  The  small  proprietors, 
who  do  most  of  the  fighting  but  get  least  of  the  spoil, 
lost  their  lands  during  their  absence  in  the  field,  and 
on  their  return  debt  brought  them  into  slavery. 
The  poor  became  dependent  on  the  rich.  Great  es- 
tates took  the  place  of  small  holdings.  Palaces 
arose,  and  luxury,  violence,  and  injustice  filled  the 
land.     Likewise  in  early  Rome 

The  burdensome  and  partly  unfortunate  wars,  and  the  ex- 
orbitant taxes  and  task-works  to  which  these  gave  rise, 
filled  up  the  measure  of  calamity;  so  as  either  to  deprive 
the  possessor  directly  of  his  farm  and  to  make  him  the 
bondman,  if  not  the  slave,  of  his  creditor  lord,  or  to  reduce 
him  through  encumbrances  practically  to  the  condition  of  a 
temporary  lessee  of  his  creditor.* 

In  the  France  of  Napoleon  the  fortunes  of  war  may 
be  read  in  the  changing  position  of  classes.       The 

^  Jenks,  "Law  and  Politics  in  the  Middle  Ages,"  p.  252. 
*  Moramsen,  op.  cit.,  vol.  I,  p.  349. 

245 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

victories  of  Jena  and  of  Friedland  "were  followed 
by  fresh  attacks  on  the  revolutionary  manners  and 
institutions."  Austerlitz  led  Napoleon  to  the  system 
of  territorial  privileges.  Entail  and  primogeniture 
were  restored  in  favor  of  noble  families.  Arbitrary 
restitutions  of  forests  were  illegally  made  to  the 
emigres,  and  thus  were  reconstructed  the  fortunes 
of  the  old  families. 

Sometimes  a  defensive  struggle  elevates  an  op- 
pressed class.  In  consequence  of  the  necessity,  im- 
posed by  a  dangerous  war,  of  releasing  insolvent 
debtors  in  order  to  fill  the  ranks  of  the  army  with 
sturdy  husbandmen,  the  Roman  plebs  were  enabled 
to  extort  from  the  ruling  class  the  institution  of  two 
tribunes  to  protect  the  rights  of  the  plebeians.  Fre- 
quently a  military  exigency  has  given  arms  and  free- 
dom to  slaves  or  wiped  out  old  inequalities  of  civil 
status  between  the  ethnic  components  of  a  popula- 
tion. Remote  military  enterprises  may  waste  and 
weaken  the  ruling  caste.  The  Crusades,  appealing 
to  the  military-religious  type,  rid  Europe  of  many 
turbulent  nobles  whose  presence  made  order  and  in- 
dustry well-nigh  impossible.  "The  continued  ab- 
sence of  the  petty  baronage  in  the  East  and  its  per- 
petual decimation  under  the  pressure  of  debt  and 
travel,  battle  and  disease,  helped  to  concentrate  au- 
thority in  the  hands  of  the  royal  officers."^  The 
establishment  of  order  under  a  strong  central  au- 
thority made  for  commerce  and  the  rise  of  towns. 
Taking  advantage  of  the  Crusader's  need  of  cash. 

*  Archer  and  Kingsford,  "The  Crusades,"  p.  426. 
246 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

the  towns  bought  immunities  of  him,  and  the  eccle- 
siastical corporations  took  a  mortgage  on  his  estate. 
So  far  the  reactions  of  conflict  have  been  consid- 
ered without  reference  to  military  success  or  failure. 
But  it  is  now  in  order  to  point  out  that  prosperous 
warfare  yields  economic  results  in  the  way  of  booty, 
captives,  land,  and  tribute,  and  that  the  disposal 
of  these  is  fateful  for  the  victorious  society.  Maine 
notes  "how  uniformly,  when  our  knowledge  of  the 
ancient  world  commences,  we  find  plebeian  classes 
deeply  indebted  to  aristocratic  orders."  He  sug- 
gests that  the  capital  which  Greek  eupatrids,  Roman 
patricians,  and  Gaulish  equites  lent  to  commoners 
at  such  usurious  rates  of  interest  as  to  degrade  the 
borrowers  and  lead  to  violent  movements  for  release, 
may  have  originated  in  the  absorption  by  the  noble 
classes  of  the  lion's  share  of  the  spoils  of  war.^  It 
is  certain  that  the  wealth  in  cattle  which  made  the 
Irish  chief  richer  than  all  his  tribesmen  originated 
in  the  perquisites  of  his  position  as  military  leader  of 
the  tribe.  The  disposition  of  the  land  won  by  the 
sword  has  important  social  results.  The  welfare 
of  early  Roman  society  depended  greatly  on  whether 
the  ager  publicus  was  let  in  large  parcels  at  a  nomi- 
nal rent  to  the  aristocrats,  or  was  allotted  as  home- 
steads to  the  commoners.  The  former  policy  forti- 
fied the  patricians,  the  latter  the  plebeians  in  their 
two  centuries  of  conflict.  More  decisive  for  Roman 
society  than  even  the  state  lands  was  the  glutting  of 
the  labor  market  with  captives  swept  together  by  the 

^Op.  cit.,    pp.  167-169. 

247 


FOUNDATIONS   OF   SOCIOLOGY 

incessant  conquests  of  the  state.  Says  Mommsen  of 
the  second  century  B.  C. : 

Capital  waged  war  on  labor  no  longer  in  the  unseemly 
fashion  which  converted  the  free  man  on  account  of  debt 
into  a  slave,  but,  on  the  contrary,  with   slaves,  regularly 

bought  and  paid  for The  ultimate  result  was  in 

both  cases  the  same — the  depreciation  of  the  Italian  farms ; 
the  supplanting  of  the  petty  husbandry,  first  in  a  part  of 
the  provinces,  and  then  in  Italy,  by  the  farming  of  large 
estates ;  the  prevailing  tendency  to  devote  the  latter  in  Italy 
to  the  rearing  of  cattle,  and  the  culture  of  the  olive  and  the 
vine;  finally,  the  replacing  of  the  free  laborers  in  the 
provinces  as  in  Italy  by  slaves  * 

Elsewhere  he  says  emphatically : 

It  was  ancient  social  evils — at  the  bottom  of  all  the  ruin 
of  the  middle  class  by  the  slave  proletariat — ^that  brought 
destruction  on  the  Roman  commonwealth.' 

To  realize  how  parasitism  may  draw  a  society 
out  of  its  true  orbit,  one  has  but  to  consider  what 
would  happen  to  us  if  the  Occidentals  should  con- 
trive to  exploit  the  toiling  yellow  millions  of  the 
Orient.  For  one  thing,  such  a  colossal  parasitic 
exploit  would  sharply  arrest  the  rise  of  our  work- 
ing classes  and  block  the  path  of  democracy  with  a 
centralized  bureaucratic  machine.  Says  Mr.  Hob- 
son:* 

The  greater  part  of  western  Europe  might  then  assume 
the  appearance  and  character  already  exhibited  by  tracts  of 
country  in  the  south  of  England,  in  the  Riviera,  and  in  the 
tourist-ridden  or  residential  parts  of  Italy  and  Switzerland 
— little  clusters  of  wealthy  aristocrats   drawing  dividends 

*  Op.  cit.,  vol.  Ill,  p.  99. 
« Ibid.,  p.  473- 
•"Imperialism,"  p.  335. 

248 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

and  pensions  from  the  Far  East,  with  a  somewhat  larger 
group  of  professional  retainers  and  tradesmen,  and  a  large 
body  of  personal  servants  and  workers  in  the  final  stages  of 
production  of  the  more  perishable  goods ;  all  the  main  ar- 
terial industries  would  have  disappeared,  the  staple  foods 
and  manufactures  flowing  in  as  tribute  from  Asia  and 
Africa. 

Vn.  The  Conjugation  of  Societies. — There  is  no 
change  of  destiny  more  abrupt  than  that  which  oc- 
curs when  two  hitherto  distinct  societies  yield  up 
their  identity  in  the  formation  of  a  single  society. 
Of  such  conjugation  there  are  two  primary  types, 
juxtaposition  and  superposition. 

The  merging  of  juxtaposed  groups  may  come 
about  either  through  alliance  or  through  conquest. 
In  the  former  case  the  train  of  consequences  is  about 
as  follows:  In  some  crisis  neighboring  peoples  ally 
themselves,  each,  however,  retaining  its  own  cus- 
toms and  institutions.  Thenceforth  they  have  the 
same  name  and  flag,  are  involved  in  a  common  en- 
mity or  friendship  with  other  states,  experience  in 
common  certain  hopes  and  discouragements.  In 
time  union  becomes  a  habit,  and  is  kept  up  even  if 
external  pressure  is  removed.  The  memory  of  the 
old  separateness  fades  and  each  people  becomes  less 
jealous  of  its  political  individuality.  From  genera- 
tion to  generation  there  is  an  increase  in  the  number 
of  matters  with  which  the  confederation  is  permitted 
to  deal.  A  written  instrument  can  retard,  but  can- 
not arrest,  the  decay  of  local  institutions  in  favor  of 
common  institutions.  After  a  civil  war  or  two  the 
confederation  becomes  a  true  nation  within  which 
249 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

the  process  of  assimilation  may  proceed  until  the 
old  local  groupings  and  feelings  have  quite  disap- 
peared. 

If  merging  comes  through  conquest,  the  process 
is  by  no  means  the  same.  In  this  case  the  bond  is 
not  community  of  interest,  but  coercion,  and  hence 
feelings  are  aroused  which  interrupt  the  assimila- 
tion that  naturally  takes  place  between  societies  in 
peaceful  contact.  If  the  mass  and  culture  of  one 
society  is  not  clearly  superior  to  that  of  the  other, 
the  two  dissimilar  streams  of  social  life  may  for  a 
long  time  flow  side  by  side  without  mingling,  the 
conquerors  unyielding  from  disdain,  the  con- 
quered from  resentment.  Still,  however  prudently 
the  former  may  refrain  from  disturbing  the  customs 
and  institutions  of  the  latter,  the  coercive  union  of 
two  societies  inevitably  modifies  the  structure  of 
both.  In  general,  the  constrained  society  is  de- 
formed by  pressure  upon  the  apex.  The  upper 
classes  are  crushed  down  toward  the  lower  and 
sometimes,  following  out  the  principle  of  Parcere 
suhjectis,  dehellare  superbos,  the  lower  are  deliber- 
ately exalted  above  their  quondam  superiors  in  order 
to  create  an  interest  loyal  to  the  dominant  society. 
Moreover,  new  groupings  may  be  formed,  intended 
to  dissolve  the  spirit  and  usages  of  the  ancient  social 
order.  Thus  in  Gaul  '^the  Romans  systematically 
suppressed  the  old  divisions  into  peoples,  tribes,  or 
nations,  and  replaced  them  by  the  distribution  of 
the  country  into  urban  districts." 

In  the  constraining  society,  on  the  other  hand, 
250 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

the  structural  alterations  are  in  the  direction  of 
greater  inequality.     Says  Mommsen:^ 

The  new  provincial  system  necessitated  the  appointment 
of  governors  whose   position  was  absolutely  incompatible 

.    .    .    .    with  the  Roman  Constitution It  was 

not  practicable  for  any  length  of  time  to  be  at  once  repub- 
lican and  king.     Playing  the  part  of  governors  demoralized 

the   Roman    ruling  class    with    fearful    rapidity 

The  man,  moreover,  who  had  just  conducted  a  legalized 
military  tyranny  abroad  could  with  difficulty  find  his  way 
back  to  the  common  civic  level.  Even  the  government  felt 
that  their  two  fundamental  principles — equality  within  the 
aristocracy  and  the  subordination  of  the  power  of  the 
magistrates  to  the  senatorial  college — ^began  in  this  instance 
to  give  way  in  their  hands 

Venice,  after  enjoying  popular  government  for 
ten  centuries,  was  brought  under  an  oligarchy  in 
consequence  of  expanded  conquests  and  incessant 
wars.  Nor  are  the  reactions  of  the  Britannic  do- 
minion upon  English  politics  of  a  different  kind. 
Says  Mr.  Hobson  :^ 

As  the  despotic  portion  of  our  Empire  has  grown  in 
area,  a  larger  and  larger  number  of  men  trained  in  the 
temper  and  methods  of  autocracy  as  soldiers  and  civil  of- 
ficials in  our  Crown  colonies,  protectorates,  and  Indian 
Empire,  reinforced  by  numbers  of  merchants,  planters,  engi- 
neers, and  overseers,  whose  lives  have  been  those  of  a 
superior  caste  ....  have  returned  to  this  country 
bringing  back  the  characters,  sentiments,  and  ideas  imposed 

by  this  foreign  environment Everywhere  they 

stand  for  coercion  and  resistance  to  reform. 

Even  if  clamped  together  by  force,  two  societies, 

^  Op.  cit.,  vol.  II,  pp.  398,  399,  403. 
*0p.  cit.,  pp.  158-9. 

251 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

nevertheless,  gradually  assimilate  and — provided 
their  racial  differencees  be  not  too  great — a  process 
of  equalization  sets  in  which  causes  the  original 
social  individualities  to  disappear  in  a  higher  syn- 
thesis. It  was  the  irresistible  demand  for  this  so- 
cial equilibration  •  that  set  aside  the  old  oligarchic 
Roman  republic  in  favor  of  the  empire.  By  Caesar's 
statemanship 

Italy  was  converted  from  the  mistress  of  the  subject  peoples 
into  the  mother  of  the  renovated  Italo-Hellenic  nation. 
The  Cisalpine  province  completely  equalized  with  the  mother- 
country  was  a  promise  and  a  guarantee  that  .  . 
every  Latinized  district  might  expect  to  be  placed  on  an 
equal  footing  by  the  side  of  its  elder  sisters  and  of  the 
mother  herself.  On  the  threshold  of  full  national  and  po- 
litical equalization  with  Italy  stood  the  adjoining  lands,  the 
Greek  Sicily  and  the  south  of  Gaul,  which  was  rapidly  be- 
coming Latinized.  In  a  more  remote  stage  of  preparation 
stood  the  other  provinces  of  the  empire  in  which  .... 
the  great  maritime  cities  ....  now  became  Italian  or 
Helleno-Italian  communities,  the  centers  of  an  Italian  civili- 
zation even  in  the  Greek  East,  the  fundamental  pillars  of  the 
future  national  and  political  equalization  of  the  empire.* 

The  conjugation  of  two  peoples  by  conquest  and^ 
superposition  gives  rise  to  still  other  social  trans-, 
formations  inasmuch  as  the  parasitic  nexus  estab- 
lished between  lords  and  subjects  calls  into  being 
peculiar  relations,  structures,  and  institutions.  The 
interesting  train  of  eflfects  which  leads  from  cus- 
tom to  law,  from  the  gentile  to  the  civil  organiza- 
tion, from  the  minor  to  the  larger  social  division  of 
labor,  resulting  in  the  formation  of  a  new  people 

*  Mommsen,  vol.  IV.  p.  657. 

252 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

on  a  much  higher  plane  of  social  evolution,  has  been 
so  admirably  worked  out  by  Gumplowicz/  Ratzen- 
hofer/  and  Ward^  that  it  is  unnecessary  to  set  it 
forth  here. 

Vin.  Alteration  in  the  Environment. — ^Upborne 
by  vegetable  and  animal  life,  human  societies  are 
exposed  to  disturbances  arising  from  changes  in  the 
worlds  of  Hora  and  fauna.  Plant  encroaches  upon 
or  drives  out  plant,  animal  presses  back  or  extermi- 
nates animal.  Fishing  communities  are  profoundly 
affected  by  mysterious  vicissitudes  in  the  run  of 
food-fishes.  Hunters  and  agriculturists  have  trying 
experiences  which  show  how  unstable  is  the  me- 
dium on  which  they  float.  Consider  how  in  our  own 
day  the  phylloxera,  the  rinderpest,  the  foot-and- 
mouth  disease,  and  the  boll-weevil  cause  economic 
crises  which  may  be  reflected  in  institutions.  Those 
migrations  of  micro-organisms  which  gave  rise  to 
the  Black  Death,  the  Asiatic  cholera,  and  the  bubonic 
plague  have  been  more  fateful  perhaps  than  the  in- 
vasions of  Huns  or  Tartars.  The  fearful  pest 
which  under  the  Antonines  wiped  out  half  the  popu- 
lation of  the  Roman  Empire  made  it  a  shell  easy 
for  the  barbarians  to  smash  into.  The  Black  Death 
of  1349,  by  making  laborers  scarce  and  dear,  gave 
rise  to  the  long  series  of  Statutes  of  Laborers  aim- 
ing to  re-attach  the  cultivators  to  the  soil.  A  per- 
manent extension  of  the  administration  of  the  state 


^  "Rassenkampf,"  pp.  218-63. 
'"Sociologische  Erkenntniss,"  pp.  156-64. 
•  •"Pute  Sociology,"  pp.^20S-is.*    "  ■  • 

253 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

has  often  dated  from  a  sudden  calamity — a  pesti- 
lence, a  famine,  a  murrain,  a  flood,  or  a  tempest — 
which,  paralyzing  private  efforts,  has  caused  appli- 
cation for  state  aid.  The  vast  machinery  of  the  Pub- 
lic Health  Department  in  England  has  rapidly  grown 
up  in  consequence  of  the  cholera  visitations  in  the 
middle  of  the  last  century.  How  many  lines  of  in- 
fluence, from  the  abolition  of  the  Corn  Laws  to  the 
Hibernian  conquest  of  American  cities,  radiate  from 
the  Irish  famine  of  1845-46! 

To  sum  up  the  results  of  this  excursion  in  Social 
Dynamics : 

The  causes  or  factors  of  social  change  are  statico- 
dynamic  processes,  transmutations,  and  stimuli. 
Static o-dynamic  processes  are  those  ordinary  func- 
tional activities  which  leave  behind  them  as  by-pro- 
ducts cumulative  effects  capable  of  causing  social 
change.  Transmutations  are  those  gradual  uncon- 
scious alterations  which  occur  in  consequence  of 
the  inability  of  human  beings  to  reproduce  accu- 
rately the  copy  their  fathers  set  them.  Stimuli,  how- 
ever, which  are  those  factors  of  change  lying  out- 
side of  the  strictly  social  sphere,  furnish  most  of  the 
impulses  toward  social  transformation.  The  prin- 
cipal orders  of  stimuli  are  the  growth  of  population, 
the  accumulation  of  wealth,  migration,  innovation, 
the  cross-fertilization  of  cultures,  the  interaction  of 
groups,  the  conjugation  of  societies,  and  alteration 
of  the  environment. 

Those  modifications  of  society  which  are  brought 
354 


THE  FACTORS  OF  SOCIAL  CHANGE 

about  by  the  social  will,  equipped  with  adequate  ( 
knowledge,  using  appropriate  means,  and  striving^i^^ 
toward  an  intelligently  conceived  goal,  do  not  come 
within  the  purview  of  the  social  theorist,  but  belong 
to  that  branch  known  as  practical  sociology. 


2» 


IX 

RECENT  TENDENCIES  IN  SOCIOLOGY* 
I.    The  Processes  of  Socialization* 

To  attribute  the  unity  of  the  social  group  to  social- 
izing processes,  in  which  individual  ideas  and  aims 
are  moulded  by  social  contacts  and  relations. 

Our  science  inherited  from  the  eighteenth  century 
an  extremely  individuaUstic  theory  of  mind.  In  the 
psychology  of  that  time,  men  are  like  billiard  balls, 
which  touch,  but  never  interpenetrate.  They  can 
be  united  in  harmonious  association  only  by  coinci- 
dence of  interests  or  by  some  external  pressure, 
some  binding  institution,  such  as  law,  religion,  or 
authoritative  instruction. 

With  the  rise  of  the  evolutionary  hypothesis  the 
view  prevailed  that  the  human  species  is  undergoing 
incessant  development,  and  that  natural  selection 
is  constantly  moulding  the  natures  of  men  into  har- 

^  This  paper  is  the  outgrowth  of  certain  lectures — delivered 
at  Harvard  University  in  April,  1902 — which  aimed  to  survey 
and  evaluate  the  principal  tendencies  in  the  sociological  writ- 
ing of  (approximately)  the  last  decade.  The  paper  appeared 
in  the  Quarterly  Journal  of  Economics,  Aug.  and  Nov.,  1902, 
May,  1903.  Originally  six  tendencies  were  formulated,  but 
the  section  dealing  with  Economic  Determinism  was  omitted 
itt  view  of  the  able  presentation  by  Professor  Seligman  in  his 
"Economic  Interpretation  of  History." 

*  See  appended  bibliography,  J 

2S6 


RECENT  TENDENCIES 

mony  with  the  requirements  of  social  life.  Spencer 
represents  this  stage  in  the  solution  of  the  problem. 
He  is  struck  by  the  mounting  of  specific  social  in- 
stincts which  are  slowly  pressing  back  the  ape  and 
tiger  in  us.  An  ameliorative  drift  like  this  is,  how- 
ever, too  leisurely  to  account  for  the  improvements 
in  social  cohesion  we  see  going  on  about  us.  Ber 
fore  our  eyes  societies  are  forming,  expanding, 
solidifying.  What  we  need  is  a  means  of  account- 
ing for  the  groupings  and  regroupings  we  find 
crowded  into  the  brief  span  of  perhaps  two  or  three 
generations. 

Spencer  somewhere  acknowledges  sadly  that  he 
has  perforce  abandoned  his  original  conviction  that 
man  is  a  reasonable  being.  Others  were  abandon- 
ing the  belief  at  the  same  time;  and  the  way  was 
first  paved  for  a  social  psychology  when  the  evolu- 
tionists dilated  on  the  role  of  the  instincts  and  pas- 
sions in  the  ordering  of  human  life.  Other  philoso- 
phers, like  Von  Hartmann,  showed  how  much  of 
the  soul  is  unillumined,  and  argued  that  the  world 
is  ruled  by  the  unconscious.  When,  finally,  the 
psychologists  brought  to  book  the  phenomena  of 
hypnotic  suggestion,  the  time  was  ripe  for  a  new 
theory  of  social  cohesion. 

No  sociologist  has  yielded  more  to  these  German 
ideas  than  Gustave  Le  Bon.  With  him  the  cohesion 
of  men  in  society  is  largely  spontaneous,  and  is  seen 
in  its  simplest  form  in  the  crowd.  The  crowd  is  a 
psychological  unity  which  puts  the  persons  compos- 
ing it  "in  possession  of  a  sort  of  collective  mind, 
17  257 


FOUNDATIONS   OF  SOCIOLOGY 

which  makes  them  feel,  think,  and  act  in  a  manner 
quite  different  from  that  in  which  each  individual 
would  feel,  think,  and  act,  were  he  isolated."  This 
is  due  to  the  fact  that  in  the  crowd  men  lose  their 
acquired  characters  and  individualities,  and  revert 
to  their  instincts.  They  renounce  that  which  dis- 
tinguishes one  from  the  other, — the  deposits  of  edu- 
cation and  reflection, — and  meet  on  that  substratum 
of  unconscious  life  which  is  common  to  all  of  them. 
There  is,  furthermore,  the  fact  that  the  sub-con- 
scious self  is  highly  susceptible  to  mental  contagion. 
The  self  that  rises  to  the  surface  in  an  excited  crowd 
is  the  self  that  is  laid  bare  when  the  hypnotist  puts 
to  sleep  the  higher  controlling  centers  of  the  sub- 
ject. In  both  cases  the  individual  is  as  clay  in  the 
hands  of  the  potter.  In  the  crowd,  then,  one  is,  for 
the  time  being,  socialized.  He  forgets  those  private 
interests  of  his  which  suffer  by  the  crowd's  line  of 
action.  He  blindly  follows  his  leader,  and  is  self- 
abnegating,  even  heroic,  in  furthering  the  common 
purposes.  He  is  much  more  disinterested  and  sen- 
timental than  he  is  when  isolated.  The  credulity  of 
crowds,  moreover,  disposes  men  to  accept,  in  the 
heat  of  enthusiasm,  ideas  which  later  may  constitute 
an  important  social  bond.  These  uncritical  mo- 
ments favor  the  implanting  of  beneficent  illusions. 
Such  convictions  inspire  in  the  crowd  that  blind 
submission,  fierce  intolerance,  and  proselyting  zeal 
we  associate  with  religious  beliefs ;  for  all  popular 
convictions  evince  an  imperious,  dominating  en- 
ergy. 

258 


j  RECENT   TENDENClfes 

Il»s,  then,  the  emotionalism  and  vast  credulity  of 
crowds  which  permit  the  fixation  of  unifying  be- 
liefs, illusions,  and  ideals.  Were  we  always  self- 
possessed  and  critical,  the  interferences  of  our  in- 
terests would  renew  the  struggle  for  existence  in  its 
harsher  forms.  "Without  a  doubt,"  says  Le  Bon, 
"human  reason  would  not  have  availed  to  spur  hu- 
manity along  the  path  of  civilization  with  the  ardor 
and  hardihood  its  illusions  have  done."  "General 
beHefs  are  the  indispensable  pillars  of  civilization." 
"They  alone  are  capable  of  inspiring  faith  and  creat- 
ing a  sense  of  duty."  Upon  this  crowd  psychology, 
Le  Bon  founds  his  theory  of  social  development. 
When  the  curtain  of  history  rises,  the  stage  is  filled 
with  unstable  swarms  of  barbarians  swept  together 
by  circumstances.  In  time  an  identical  environ- 
ment and  the  necessities  of  life  in  common  bring 
about  a  blending  of  the  unlike.  Great  leaders  im- 
press unifying  beliefs,  and  the  people  acquires  an 
ideal.  Under  the  stimulus  of  this  ideal  a  new  civili- 
zation, with  all  its  institutions,  beliefs,  and  arts,  is 
born.  But  in  time  a  calculating  individualism  un- 
dermines the  ideal.  For  a  while,  indeed,  men  are 
held  together  by  their  traditions  and  institutions. 
Nevertheless,  the  ideal  finally  perishes ;  and  we  have 
again  a  mere  swarm  of  individuals  which  returns  to 
the  simple  unity  of  its  original  state, — ^that  of  the 
crowd.  The  populace  rules,  barbarism  mounts,  and 
the  cycle  of  civilization  is  complete. 

This  theory  of  the  genesis  of  groups  cannot  be 
taken  as  more  than  a  brilliant  assault  on  the  prob- 
259 


FOUNDATIONS   OF   SOCIOLOGY 

lem.  Le  Bon,  while  he  skillfully  lays  bare  the  soiil 
of  the  crowd,  errs  greatly  in  exalting  this  immediate 
ascendency  of  the  collective  mind  over  individual 
minds  to  be  the  all-in-all  of  social  unity.  Mob- 
madness  is  an  infrequent,  temporary  thing;  and 
many  of  us  have  never  experienced  it.  We  do  little 
of  our  thinking  or  acting  in  a  crowd,  and  what  we 
think  or  do  there  leaves  but  few  traces.  Society, 
unlike  the  mob,  is  organized  and  acts  deliberately ; 
whereas  the  mob  acts  quickly  and  under  excitement. 
In  it  truths  and  inventions  have  more  vitality  than 
mere  suggestions.  There  are  plenty  of  theatrical 
persons  who  can  suggest  in  a  striking  way ;  but  so- 
ciety gives  such  scope  to  reason  that,  in  the  long 
run,  its  leader  may  be  the  shrinking  investigator  or 
the  scholarly  recluse  rather  than  the  orator  or  the 
prophet. 

Tarde,  although  he  makes  suggestion-imitation  the 
corner-stone  of  his  sociology,  does  not  start  from  an 
abnormal  phenomenon,  like  the  mob  mood.  Im- 
pressed no  less  than  Le  Bon  by  the  marvels  of  sug- 
gestion as  brought  to  light  by  the  hypnotist,  he, 
nevertheless,  inquires  how  our  choices  are  shaped, 
not  in  the  press  of  the  mob,  but  in  our  cool  private 
moments.  Recognizing  that  whatever  translates 
men  from  conflict  to  cooperation  facilitates  social 
groupings,  Tarde  identifies  the  socializing  process 
with  the  growing  resemblance  brought  about  by  im- 
itation. In  the  spread  of  examples  from,  the  hero, 
the  nobility,  the  city,  or  the  capital,  in  the  supersed- 
ing of  neighborhood  or  provincial. culture  by  a  na- 

260 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

tional  culture,  in  the  spread  of  beliefs  and  practices 
from  the  higher  civilization  to  the  lower,  in  the  re- 
sulting assimilation  of  nationalities  and  convergence 
of  peoples,  he  detects  the  beginning  of  every  higher 
human  synthesis.  The  guarantee  of  peace  lies  in 
agreement  as  to  the  ground  plan  of  life, — in  commu- 
nity of  religion,  morals,  and  tastes.  Let  men  ap- 
proach the  same  plane  of  beliefs  and  desires,  and 
they  will  beat  their  swords  into  ploughshares,  no 
matter  how  their  interests  clash.  Society  is  that^ 
circle  in  which  the  struggle  for  existence  has  become 
bloodless ;  and  this  occurs  only  where  there  is  resem- 
blance in  ideas,  standards,  costumes,  manners. 

Within  the  historic  period  there  has  been  a  pro- 
gressive enlargement  of  political  society;  i  e.,  of 
the  circle  of  peace.  Thus  he  says^ :  "From  a  count- 
less number  of  very  small  but  exceedingly  bitter 
wars  between  petty  clans,  we  pass  to  a  smaller  num- 
ber of  somewhat  larger  and  less  rancorous  wars: 
first  between  small  cities,  then  between  large  cities, 
then  between  nations  that  are  continually  growing 
greater;  till  finally  we  arrive  at  an  era  of  very  in- 
frequent but  most  impressive  conflicts,  quite  devoid 
of  hatred,  between  colossal  nations,  whose  very 
greatness  makes  them  inclined  to  peace."  This 
irenic  progress  keeps  step  with  the  historic  march 
of  civilization.  Conquest,  migration,  intercourse, 
commerce,  intermarriage,  have  destroyed  countless 
petty  languages,  religions,  local  customs,  systems  of 
laws,  and  moral  ideals;,  have  fused  little  cultures 

^"Social  Laws,"  p.  no. 

261 


FOUNDATIONS   OF   SOCIOLOGY 

into  national  and  cosmopolitan  cultures;  have 
spread  accents,  wares,  ideas,  and  cravings ;  and  have 
brought  humanity  into  ever-enlarging  basins  of  civ- 
ilization,— first  a  mountain  valley,  then  a  river  plain, 
then  an  inland  sea.  And  civilization,  which  both 
in  the  Orient  and  in  the  Occident  has  become 
oceanic,  will,  no  doubt,  in  the  twenty-second  cen- 
tury be  planetary. 

This  process  of  assimilation — the  laws  of  which 
have  recently  been  ably  formulated  by  Miss  Simons 
on  the  basis  of  wide  historical  researches — will  al- 
ways be  thought  of  in  connection  with  Tarde's 
studies  in  imitation.  When  he  came  on  the  field, 
sociologists  were  so  much  impressed  with  the  social 
division  of  labor  that  they  saw  in  social  evolution 
nothing  but  differentiation.  Spencer  averred  that 
the  great  process  in  society  is  the  passing  from  the 
like  to  the  unlike.  Tarde,  on  the  other  hand,  thinks 
it  is  the  heterogeneous  that  is  "unstable."  Differen- 
tiation holds  true  of  men  as  producers:  as  con- 
sumers, the  drift  is  the  other  way.  The  formula  is, 
growing  unlikeness  as  workers,  growing  likeness  as 
livers  and  enjoyers.  The  specialization  of  trades 
and  professions  is  merely  an  economic  fact.  The 
socializing  process  is  that  growth  in  the  closeness 
and  extent  of  similarity  which  multiplies  sym- 
pathies, promotes  cooperations,  and  makes  for  har- 
mony among  men. 

This  notion  of  the  socializing  process  is  held  by 
Gumplowicz,  although  he  ignores  the  assimilation 
that  goes  on  between  societies,  and  assumes  that 
262 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

mental  approach  can  take  place  between  peoples 
only  after  they  have  been  clamped  together  by  con- 
quest. With  him  the  specific  bond  of  the  innumer- 
able groups  that  are  linked  together  in  a  national 
society  is  the  consciousness  of  resemblance,  whether 
physical  or  mental.  The  cause  of  resemblance  may 
be  either  intermarriage  or  social  intercourse. 

Professor  Qddings  agrees  that  assimilation  is  the 
socializing  process  par  excellence,  but  he  finds  at 
the  bottom  of  all  groupings  what  he  happily  terms 
"the  consciousness  of  kind."  This  may  be  inspired, 
not  alone  by  the  resemblance  brought  about  by  imi- 
tation, but  as  well  by  original  similarity  in  body  or 
temperament,  or  by  resemblance  arising  from  the 
influence  of  the  same  environment,  occupation,  or 
experiences.  This  state  of  mind  is  the  true  and 
only  cement  among  men,  and  upon  its  range  and 
intensity  Giddings  makes  depend  the  size  and  in- 
timacy of  all  groups  whatsoever. 

To  do  full  justice  to  the  sentimental  side  of  asso- 
ciation, we  need,  however,  a  term  even  wider  than 
consciousness  of  kind.  We  must  explain  the  clash- 
ing of  groups  as  well  as  their  merging,  men's  oppo- 
sitions as  well  as  their  unions.  Our  behavior 
towards  others  is  not  determined  simply  by  a  per- 
ception of  resemblance  shading  oflF  to  zero,  inspir- 
ing a  sympathy  graduated  down  to  indiflFerence. 
There  is  as  well  a  perception  of  difference,  awaken- 
ing a  positive  antipathy.  We  hate  people  whose 
ways  are  utterly  different  from  ours,  and  wage 
upon  them  a  "holy  war."     Both  factors — the  repul- 

263 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

sion  as  well  as  the  attraction — must  be  taken  into 
account,  in  order  to  predict  into  what  groups  a 
given  population  will  fall. 

Granting  that  awareness  of  resemblances  and  dif- 
ferences determines  the  attitudes  of  persons  toward 
one  another,  what  is  the  relative  importance  of  the 
various  elements  in  which  people  may  resemble  or 
differ?  As  regards  physique,  the  thorough  mix-up 
of  cephalic  races  suggests  that  head-form  is  insig- 
nificant. Color,  on  the  other  hand,  is  an  outstand- 
ing trait,  and  color-contrast  is  almost  always  a 
hindrance  to  social  feeling  and  a  bar  to  intermar- 
riage. In  ancient  India,  as  in  our  South,  color 
seems  to  have  been  the  foundation  of  caste.  The 
shock  which  a  human  being  experiences  on  behold- 
ing a  face  of  an  unfamiliar  hue  is  accentuated  as 
soon  as  color-contrast  becomes  indelibly  associated 
with  mental,  moral,  and  social  differences.  Each 
race,  moreover,  works  out  its  ideal  of  personal 
beauty  on  the  basis  of  its  distinctive  traits,  and  the 
individuals  of  another  race  are  apt  to  strike  it  as 
ugly  and  repulsive. 

Some  light  on  the  problem  is  got  by  noting  what 
points  of  difference  are  emphasized  when  men  are 
coining  insulting  epithets  to  hurl  at  their  enemies. 
With  the  ruder  man  personal  appearance  and  habits 
count  for  much.  One  thinks  of  his  foes  as 
"niggers,"  "greasers,"  "roundheads,"  "fuzzy-wuz- 
zies,"  "red-necks,"  "palefaces,"  "red-haired  devils." 
"brown  monkeys,"  "redskins,"  "uncircumcised," 
"dagoes,"  "frog-eaters,"  "rat-eaters,"  etc.     Some- 

264 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

what  higher  is  the  type  that  thinks  of  his  enemy  as 
a  "parley-voo,"  "goddam,"  '*mick/'  "heathen,"  "in- 
fidel," "heretic,"  or  "Papist."  Difference  in  speech 
is  a  serious  bar  to  sympathy,  for  at  first  another's 
speech  always  sounds  to  us  like  the  gibberish  of  a 
chattering  ape.  The  higher  type  of  man  is  struck 
by  cultural  differences  only,  and  detests  those  who 
are  "savage,"  "barbarous,"  or  "benighted," 

In  seeking  the  causes  of  the  persistence  of  groups, 
Professor  Simmel  has  developed  the  consciousness- 
of-kind  theory  by  showing  just  what  points  of  re- 
semblance have  the  most  cohesive  worth.  These 
appear  to  be : — 

1.  A  common  valued  possession,  such  as  landed 
property,  a  national  territory,  or  public  buildings. 
Those  who  have  an  undivided  ownership  of  the 
same  possession  tend  to  behave  as  a  unit. 

2.  A  common  and  prized  symbol,  such  as  a  flag, 
a  regimental  standard,  a  palladium,  grail,  or  temple. 
Those  who  value  the  same  symbol  are  drawn  to- 
gether. 

3.  Love  of,  or  obedience  to,  the  same  chief  or 
dynasty.  Fellow-subjects  of  the  same  prince,  disci- 
ples of  the  same  prophet,  form  naturally  a  sympa- 
thetic group. 

4.  Consciousness  of  a  group  ''honor,"  which  is 
in  the  custody  of  all,  and  which  is  damaged  if  one 
fails  to  reach  a  certain  standard.  This  means  simply 
that  the  world  thinks  of  them  as  one  body,  so  that 
the  glory  or  shame  of  one  becomes  the  glory  or 
shame    of    all.     The    fusion    of    members    in    the 

265 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

thought  of  the  public  creates  a  group  "honor," 
which  reacts  integratingly  upon  the  group. 

The  rise,  then,  of  a  common  possession,  symbol, 
leader,  or  "honor,"  socializes  the  persons  involved 
with  reference  to  one  another.    ^ 

Professor  Baldwin  approaches  the  problem  as  a 
genetic  psychologist  fresh  from  the  study  of  the 
child  mind.  From  his  observations  of  the  growth 
of  personality  he  is  led  to  attach  less  importance 
than  do  Tarde  and  Giddings  to  agreement  in  the 
contents  of  the  mind,  and  dwells  rather  on  the  fact 
that  the  thought  of  the  other  person  is  built  into 
the  very  foundations  of  the  thought  of  one's  self. 
At  the  dawn  of  its  mental  life  the  child  has  selfish 
instincts,  but  it  has  no  notion  of  self.  This  idea  it 
can  only  slowly  build  up  out  of  its  sensations  and 
out  of  elements  that,  by  imitation,  it  has  taken  from 
those  about  it.  But  this  wholesale  appropriation  of 
what  was  "other"  makes  it  easy  to  impute  this  en- 
riched self-notion  to  "other."  The  child  interprets 
persons  in  terms  of  its  own  subjective  experiences, 
because  it  has  no  other  means  of  interpreting  them. 
I  use  the  same  notion  of  personality  now  in  thinking 
of  ego,  now  in  thinking  of  alter.  Hence  I  read  into 
the  other  person  the  same  desires  and  interests  I  feel 
in  myself.  What  I  want  and  claim  I  must  by  the 
very  same  thought  allow  others  to  want  and  claim. 
Whatever  I  fancy,  hope,  fear,  desire  for  self,  in  gen- 
eral remains  the  same,  whether  afterwards  I  do 
qualify  it  by  the  word  "my"  or  the  word  "your." 
So,  whenever  my  interests  are  entangled  with  those 
266 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

of  another,  I  am  moved  to  give  equal  weight  to  the 
claims  of  self  and  the  claims  of  other.  And  this 
solution  is  justice. 

What  fits  us  for  association,  then,  is  not  so  much 
resemblance  in  this  trait  or  that,  as  identity  in 
mental  constitution.  However  far  apart  we  may  be 
in  creeds  or  standards,  the  social  relation  is  possible 
so  long  as  the  same  self-thought  will  interpret  both 
ego  and  alter.  What  Baldwin  has  found  the  root 
of  is  not  clannishness,  but  sociality ;  not  what  unites 
men  of  the  same  stripe,  but  what  draws  together  all 
sorts  and  conditions.  The  bi-polar  self,  or  socius, 
that  normally  grows  up  in  the  budding  years,  serves 
just  as  well  as  a  social  instinct.  As  beings  that 
think,  yearn,  strive,  or  suffer,  we  are  all  potential 
associates.  There  is  a  primary  bond  among  all  hu- 
man beings  able  to  get  in  touch ;  and  to  this  is  added, 
as  Gumplowicz,  Tarde,  and  Giddings  rightly  insist, 
a  new  strand  for  every  fresh  resemblance  that  is 
perceived. 

Baldwin  shrewdly  detects,  besides  these  sympa- 
thetic bonds,  a  purely  impersonal  sense  of  ought- 
ness,  or  sense  of  being  under  law,  which  he  traces  to 
the  child's  experience  of  being  made  to  obey.  The 
habit  formed  in  the  family  of  acting  under  parental 
law  prepares  one  for  later  voluntary  obedience  to  an 
abstract  rule  of  right,  and  constitutes  a  very  im- 
portant element  in  socialization.  In  thus  recogniz- 
ing the  moulding  value  of  external  pressure  and 
sanction,  he  admits  a  new  factor, — the  great  factor 
of  control. 

267 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Rival  to  the  resemblance  theory  is  the  view  that 
groups  are  built  by  community  of  interests,  that  it  is 
chiefly  the  experience  of  finding  others  to  be  helpful 
to  one's  life  ends  that  engenders  sympathies.  On 
the  one  principle,  men  cleave  to  their  kind,  and  shun 
opposites ;  on  the  other  principle,  they  seek  comple- 
ments, and  shun  competitors.  The  former  postu- 
lates sentiments,  the  latter  practical  motives,  as  the 
first  ground  of  union.  Simmel  holds  to  the  latter 
explanation,  and  cites  as  crucial  instance,  "Common 
antagonism  against  a  third  party  tends  under  all 
circumstances  to  consolidate  the  combining  groups, 
and  with  much  greater  certainty  than  friendly  rela- 
tionships towards  a  third  party." 

Durkheim,  too,  leans  strongly  to  this  utilitarian 
interpretation  of  society.  For  social  life  he  dis- 
tinguishes two  sources, — similarity  of  minds  and 
the  social  division  of  labor.  In  the  former  case  one 
is  socialized  because,  being  only  slightly  individual- 
ized, he  identifies  himself  with  his  kind ;  in  the  latter 
case,  because  the  very  individuaHty  and  function 
which  mark  him  off  from  others  make  him  the  more 
dependent  on  others.  Societies  pass  from  the  prim- 
itive organic  solidarity  that  arises  from  likeness  to 
the  later  organic  solidarity  that  arises  out  of  interde- 
pendence. It  is  not  conclusive,  however,  for  Durk- 
heim to  point  out  that  the  social  division  of  labor 
has  never  yet  broken  up  society  into  selfish  guilds. 
If  growing  specialization  has  not  relaxed  the  bonds 
of  sympathy,  it  is,  perhaps,  because  the  communion 
of  ideas  and  tastes  has  meanwhile  proceeded  even 

268 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

more  rapidly.  Our  specialism,  Tarde  might  well 
reply,  is  tempered  by  Herculean  educational  en- 
deavors, which  aim  to  join  us  by  common  standards 
of  decency,  ideas  of  right,  or  interest  in  learning, 
faster  than  we  are  being  sundered  by  vocation. 
Reading  the  same  journals,  following  the  same 
styles,  cooperating  in  the  same  church,  party,  or 
lodge,  we  assimilate  even  faster  than  we  differen- 
tiate; and,  if  eight  hours  a  day  we  are  moulded  to 
diverse  tasks,  eight  other  hours  a  day,  including  holi- 
days, we  are  steeped  in  and  saturated  with  the  same 
civilization. 

The  debate  between  the  social  psychologists,  who 
deem  assimilation  the  socializing  process,  and  the 
economists,  who  identify  it  with  the  growing  to- 
gether of  interests,  appears  to  be  a  drawn  battle. 
Each  side  can  overwhelm  the  other  with  facts,  and 
the  spectator  concludes  that  the  two  group-building 
forces  divide  the  world  between  them.  It  is  a 
query,  however,  if  the  latter  has  not  the  greater  fu- 
ture before  it.  Does  -not  that  progress  in  character 
which  weakens  the  sway  of  blind,  intense  feelings, 
and  fortifies  self-control  and  rationality,  favor  those 
groups  with  a  distinctive  interest  and  sphere  of 
action  at  the  expense  of  groups  that  are  held  to- 
gether by  a  consciousness  of  kind?  Will  not  that 
antipathy  inspired  by  unlikeness  of  color,  speech, 
religion,  nationality,  or  civilization,  be  more  and 
more  condemned  as  a  "prejudice"  that  one  is  to 
"rise  above/'  whereas  conflict  of  interest  will  conr- 
tinue  to  be  regarded  as  necessarily  divisive? 

269 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

So  much  for  the  optimists,  the  thinkers  who  are 
so  impressed  with  the  knitting  together  of  men  by 
their  contacts  and  interactions  that  for  them  the 
problem  of  socialization  is  solved.  In  their  eyes, 
union  is  easy,  order  natural,  tranquillity  sponta- 
neous, and  the  struggle  for  existence  a  conflict  with 
nature,  and  not  with  our  fellowmen.  But  some 
there  are  who  do  not  share  this  view.  Is,  then,  the 
primitive  struggle  so  easily  put  aside,  the  give-and- 
take  spirit  proper  to  social  life  so  easily  come  by? 
Fellowship  craving  may  draw  together  ten  or  a 
hundred ;  but  does  it  unite  ten  thousand  or  ten  mil- 
lion ?  Love  may  create  households  and  coteries  and 
churches ;  but  is  it  the  architect  of  towns,  cities,  and 
states?  "Pleasure  in  companionship,"  "pleasure  in 
cooperation,"  are  luxuries ;  and,  if  men  have  formed 
groups  under  the  stress  of  conflict,  it  is  likely  that 
fear,  hunger,  or  greed  rather  than  sociability  have 
brought  them  to  it. 

The  stern  necessity  of  winning  or  defending  a 
food  share  or  a  feeding  ground  hurry  men  into  asso- 
ciation ere  they  are  ripe  for  it.  Not  the  attraction 
of  like  for  like,  but  war  or  the  dread  of  war  has 
instigated  that  unceasing  agglomeration  of  com- 
munities revealed  in  history.  Groups  arise  too 
soon,  form  before  the  natural  socializing  forces 
have  done  their  work.  Central  organs  appear 
while  yet  the  premature  society,  owing  to  social 
unfitness  of  its  members,  is  torn  by  violence.  Will 
not  these  organs  seek  to  check  this  waste  and  cure 
these  ills  by  setting  up  artificial  processes  of  sociali- 
270 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

zation,  to  eke  out  the  tardy  work  of  natural  sociali- 
zation? In  a  word,  must  not  social  control  be 
counted  a  factor,  if  not  in  instituting,  at  least  in 
improving  society?  How  otherwise  account  for 
massive  institutions,  like  police,  church,  school? 
Wherefore  laws,  courts,  hangmen?  Why  the  yoke 
of  codes,  the  burden  of  ceremonial,  the  shackles  of 
creed,  the  gyves  of  common  opinion,  the  moral  cor- 
sets laced  upon  our  minds  by  the  schoolmaster  ?  Is 
social  order  a  matter  of  silken  cords  and  rose-water, 
or  is  it  a  matter  of  "iron  and  blood"  ? 

These  considerations  raise  up  opponents  of  the 
optimistic  school  in  the  very  heyday  of  its  success. 
Men  of  juristic  training  like  Von  Ihering  and  Post 
and  Vaccaro  show  that  the  mutual  adaptation  of 
men  has  been  difficult,  and  dwell  upon  the  worth  of 
law,  custom,  religion,  and  the  moral  code  in  creating 
harmony  and  order.  ,  But  even  they  overlook  many 
of  the  means  and  devices  of  social  control.  Pre- 
occupied with  institutions,  they  overlook  those  con- 
ventions, which  float  freely  in  the  social  mind 
without  visible  source  or  seat.  The  study  of  these 
shows  that  to  collective  suggestions,  personal  ideals, 
authorized  illusions,,  and  social  valuations  is  due  no 
little  of  that  harmony  which  has  been  credited  to  the 
"dialectic  of  personal  growth,"  the  "consciousness 
of  kind,"  or  the  "solidarity  of  interests," 


271 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

II.    The  Group-to-Group  Struggle  Within 
Society.^ 

To  look  upon  society  as  a  theatre  of  struggle  he- 
tween  classes,  corporations,  and  parties  for  the 
advancement  of  their  respective  interests. 

The  old  ontological  concept  of  society — that  it  is 
a  real  integral  being — closed  our  eyes  to  the  series 
of  minor  groups  that  lie  between  the  individual  and 
the  whole,  competing  with  it  for  his  allegiance.  The 
organic  concept  likewise  misled  us  by  focusing  at- 
tention on  the  functional  groups.  In  a  living  body 
the  organs  by  means  of  their  functions  minister  to 
the  welfare  of  the  whole,  and  there  is  no  sign  of  any 
contention  of  part  with  part.  If  the  organs  and 
members  are  unequally  nourished,  it  is  because  the 
nervous  system,  the  unquestioned  master  of  the  rest 
of  the  body,  apportions  the  blood  on  the  commu- 
nistic principle, — To  each  according  to  his  needs. 

Now,  if  society  is  a  being  of  this  kind,  we  must 
suppose  that  the  operative  groups  accept  submis- 
sively the  nutritive  elements  that  come  to  them 
under  the  established  system,  and  that  the  regulating 
apparatus — the  political  bodies,  for  example — acts 
with  sole  reference  to  the  welfare  of  the  entire  so- 
ciety. The  capture  of  this  apparatus  by  a  scheming 
class,  in  order  to  promote  its  own  interests  at  the 
expense  of  the  rest,  would  be  a  derangement,  a  de- 
mentia as  of  a  person  obsessed  by  an  idee  Hxe. 

But  why,  after  all,  should  we  view  our  facts 

*  See  appended  bibliography,  II. 
272 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

through  this  golden  haze  of  beneficent  adaptation? 
Why  assume  that  in  society  all  struggle  will  take 
the  form  of  man-to-man  competition?  Will  not 
those  of  kindred  interests  find  one  another  out,  band 
together,  and  organize  themselves,  the  more  effect- 
ively to  assert  their  claims  against  similar  organized 
bands  supporting  rival  claims?  Indeed,  is  not 
groupwise  conflict  inevitable  the  moment  society 
differentiates  into  categories  of  men  with  distinctive 
and  incompatible  interests?  The  organicists  linger 
over  the  functional  groups  or  "organs,"  composed 
of  persons  who  coordinate  their  efforts  in  some  pro- 
ducing, distributing,  or  regulating  activity.  Of  this 
sort  is  a  factory  staff,  a  clearing-house,  a  police 
force,  an  administrative  department.  But  there  are 
at  least  three  other  kinds  of  groups  in  society. 

1.  Local  or  regional  groups,  termed  by  some 
"component  societies,"  or  "segments,"  and  com- 
posed of  neighbors  exposed  to  the  same  physical 
environment  and  united  by  certain  special  interests. 
In  barbarian  society  these  are  the  chief  struggle 
units;  but  in  modern  society  they  are  fast  losing 
their  special  interests,  and  consequently  their  iden- 
tity. 

2.  Likeness  groups,  characterized  by  special  co- 
hesion, seeing  that  the  sympathy  and  pleasurable 
companionship  of  their  members  with  one  another 
is  greater  than  with  outsiders.  Those  of  the  same 
group  associate  freely  and  have  a  more  or  less  vivid 
consciousness  of  kind ;  but  between  members  of  dif- 
ferent groups  there  is  relative  indifference,  some- 

i8  273 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

times  even  suspicion  and  dislike.  These  groups  are 
based  on  resemblance  partly  cultural — similarity  in 
opinions,  ideals,  and  tastes — and  partly  economic, — 
similarity  in  pecuniary  condition  and  mode  of  life. 
Although  these  groups  do  not  clash,  they  are  rela- 
tively non-fraternizing,  and  mark  sometimes  a  real 
"solution  of  continuity"  in  the  social  substance. 

3.  Interest  groups.  These  arise  from  the  rally- 
ing of  persons  about  a  common  interest,  in  order  to 
support  it  and  advance  it  even  at  the  expense  of 
other  interests.  The  incorporating  of  an  interest  in 
this  way  compels  others  to  do  likewise,  and  so  in- 
tensifies the  struggle  between  them.  The  rise  of 
such  groupings  sharpens  opposition  of  which  people 
were  only  vaguely  conscious,  and  builds  up  minor 
solidarities  at  the  cost  of  the  general  solidarity.  Any 
great  national  society,  however  seamless  it  may  ap- 
pear at  a  distance,  will  be  found  at  close  hand  to  be 
a  patchwork, — a  web  in  which  various  patterns  have 
been  broidered.  It  is  the  theatre  not  only  of  man- 
to-man  competition,  but  also  of  a  constant  though 
ordered  struggle  between  guilds,  corporations,  sects, 
and  classes  that  impair  the  general  cohesion  just  in 
proportion  as  they  perfect,  their  own  cohesion. 

Professor  Durkheim,  after  exploring  the  founda- 
tions of  law  and  morals,  concludes  that  the  early 
solidarity,  based  on  the  likeness  of  all  the  members 
of  the  community,  afiForded  no  such  support  to 
morality  as  does  the  present  solidarity,  based  on  di- 
vision of  labor.  The  bond  knit  by  the  dependence 
of  part  on  part  is  closer  and  stronger.  To  promote 
374 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

social  unity,  therefore,  we  have  only  to  keep  on  in 
this  path.  Let  us  extend  and  perfect  incorporation 
on  the  basis  of  function.  Let  each  profession  and 
interest  become  a  collegium  with  an  internal  order 
of  its  own,  yet  operating  smoothly  within  the  larger 
corporation  we  call  society.. 

This  proposal  to  deepen  the  convolutions  in  the 
social  substance  will  enchant  the  organicists  with 
their  robust  faith  in  the  division  of  labor.  Is  it  not 
likely,  however,  that  the  functional  group,  if  en- 
couraged, will  develop  the  teeth  and  claws  of  the 
interest  group?  Did  the  formation  of  a  General 
Managers'  Association  and  an  American  Railway 
Union  prove  a  pledge  of  peace  in  1894?  Tarde  is 
right  in  insisting  that  it  is  not  what  men  have  apart, 
but  what  they  have  in  common  that  unites  them. 
Trade  and  professional  unions,  codes,  and  journals 
would  split  up  society,  were  it  not  for  the  tide  of 
common  ideas  and  sentiments  that  rises  even  faster 
than  do  these  partitions. 

Probably  the  hierarchy  of  interest  groups — from 
those  asserting  the  interest  of  a  neighborhood  or  a 
logging  gang  to  those  that  stand  for  a  great  region 
or  a  world-wide  class — would  never  have  been  so 
ignored  by  theorists,  had  it  not  been  for  the  national 
society.  During  the  era  of  exaggerated  national- 
ism, this  stood  so  huge,  so  sharply  defined  by  lan- 
guage, so  centralized  by  administration,  so  knit  to- 
gether by  its  special  sentiment,  patriotism,  that  so- 
ciologists, overawed,  exclaimed,  "Behold  Society!'* 

War  is  waged  between  states,  and  war  had  so  so- 
275      * 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

lidified  the  war-waging  corporation  that  it  appeared 
to  overrule  and  hush  the  antagonisms  in  the  interior 
of  the  political  society.  The  organ  asserting  the 
national  interest  by  violence  utterly  overshadowed 
the  narrower  struggle  groups,  asserting  minor  in- 
terests by  legal  means.  But  'the  canker  of  a  long 
peace,"  with  the  fading  of  national  antipathies,  the 
mellowing  of  patriotism,  and  the  liberalizing  of  the 
state,  in  its  train,  breaks  the  political  spell,  and  brings 
to  light  at  last  the  unsuspected  natural  organization 
of  men  for  success  in  the  struggle  for  existence. 

It  is  significant  that  Italian  sociologists,  living 
among  a  people  that  has  never  been  cast  all  of  a 
piece  in  the  iron  mould  of  warfare,  have  scouted  the 
organic  theory  of  society.  In  the  eastern  part  of 
Europe,  moreover,  where  the  fusion  of  shattered 
nationalities  in  the  crucible  of  new  empires  is  still 
far  from  complete,  the  intellectual  and  political  con- 
test for  mastery  is  far  more  striking  than  in  the 
better-welded  societies  of  the  west.  Where  equality 
before  the  law  is  not  conceded  to  all,  where  feudal 
society  has  not  yet  been  dissolved  by  industrialism, 
and  where  government  is  the  instrument  of  a  class 
rather  than  the  organ  of  the  general  will,  the  infra- 
social  struggle  is  too  naked  and  obtrusive  to  be  hid- 
den by  a  decent  drapery  of  words. 

Naturally,  it  has  not  been  the  hand  of  a  Spencer 
or  a  Tarde  that  has  lifted  the  lid  off  the  seething 
caldron.  To  Italians  like  Loria  and  Vaccaro,  to  the 
German  Ratzenhofer,  to  the  Austrian  Pole  Gum- 
plowicz,  and  to  the  Russian  Novieow  belongs  the 
276 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

credit  of  first  setting  forth  the  forms,  phases,  and 
laws  of  the  struggles  that  persist  in  the  interior  of 
societies. 

In  France,  England,  and  the  United  States,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  social  harmony  is  so  consider-'^ 
able  that  the  Klassenkampf  theses  of  Gumplowicz  or 
Loria  strike  us  as  exaggerated.  We  are  far  from 
ready  to  confess  that  the  "social  organism"  is  a 
myth,  and  that  "society"  is  a  free  fight  of  interest 
groups,  with  the  state  as  keeper  of  the  lists.  We 
love  to  think  that  with  few  exceptions  each  is  con- 
cerned only  for  the  public  weal,  and  that  the  whole 
people  thrills  with  the  same  wrath,  pride,  pity,  or 
passion  for  justice.  Professor  Giddings,  who  in 
his  first  volume  seemed  somewhat  taken  with  the 
ideas  of  Novicow,  has  in  his  last  book  all  but  ig- 
nored conflict,  and  agrees  with  Spencer  and  Tarde 
that  society  constantly  approaches  a  harmony  of 
sentiments  and  desires. 

According  to  Gumplowicz,  the  Nestor  of  the  . 
Darwinian  sociologists,  the  chief  factors  that  make 
struggle  groups  are  propinquity,  habitual  associa- 
tion, blood  kinship,  rank,  possessions,  occupation, 
and  such  moral  facts  as  language,  religion,  science, 
and  art.  The  cohesive  strength  of  a  combination 
depends  on  the  number  of  group-making  factors 
that  knit  together  its  members.  The  smaller  group 
has  the  more  ties;  and  hence  the  group  that  em- 
braces the  rich  and  influential,  since  it  makes  up  in 
cohesion,  organization,  and  brains  what  it  lacks  in 
numbers,  has  the  most  power  under  normal  condi- 
277 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

tions.  But  in  times  of  revolution  numerical  strength 
counts;  and  the  masses  that  ordinarily  lack  or- 
ganization because  of  their  bulk  and  their  engross- 
ing tasks,  may  become  formidable. 

Each  group  faces  other  groups  on  behalf  of  its 
own  interests  solely,  and  knows  no  standard  of  con- 
duct but  success.  The  aim  of  the  struggle  is  to  es- 
tablish appropriate  institutions  for  safeguarding  or 
increasing  the  power  or  means  of  the  group.  The 
clergy  want  immunity  from  secular  supervision, 
manufacturers  want  a  protective  tariff,  bankers,  free 
issuance  of  notes,  slaveholders,  a  guarantee  of  their 
property  wherever  their  flag  flies,  capitalists,  the 
right  to  import  cheap  labor,  laborers,  the  right  to 
boycott. 

Each  group  has  its  favorite  weapons  of  combat. 
The  priests  may  refuse  to  perform  religious  rites, 
laborers  strike,  employers  shut  down,  bankers  pre- 
cipitate a  panic,  the  noble  or  rich  withhold  social  rec- 
ognition. Each  group,  too,  has  its  own  organs  for 
conducting  the  struggle.  The  priests  have  their 
hierarchies  and  synods,  the  business  men  their 
chambers  of  commerce,  the  laborers  their  walking 
delegates,  the  farmers  their  granges ;  while  the  rich 
have  polite  society.  The  ruling  class  has  in  addi- 
tion the  machinery  of  government.  The  state  fixes 
legal  forms  for  the  relations  of  classes,  and  so  a 
contest  rages  for  the  possession  of  this  valuable  or- 
ganization. The  successive  coming  to  conscious- 
ness of  lower  and  wider  layers  of  the  people  results 
in  a  series  of  struggles  for  emancipation,  and  in  the 
278 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

sharing  of  political  power  among  several  classes. 
But  in  the  meantime  an  unsocial  compound  has 
taken  the  place  of  society,  and  the  age  of  despotic 
force  recurs. 

Loria,  developing  and  exaggerating  Karl  Marx, 
carries  the  theory  of  class  selfishness  so  far  as  vir- 
tually to  resolve  the  evolution  of  a  society  into  a 
series  of  parallel  class  evolutions.  He  sees  no  insti- 
tutions conserving  the  collective  welfare,  but  only 
institutions  that  reflect  the  egoism  of  groups.  In 
his  view  religion,  ethics,  law,  politics,  and. finance 
express  alike  the  interest  of  the  dominant  class, 
and  change  as  it  changes.  The  supernatural  moral- 
ity of  savages  is  devised  to  keep  the  women  in  sub- 
jection to  the  men.  Christianity  won  the  powerful 
because  its  promise  of  heaven  disposed  the  poor  to 
resignation.  Even  public  opinion  is  no  moral  reflex, 
but  the  exponent  of  selfish  property-owners. 

The  state,  he  thinks,  is  an  arena  of  incessant  com- 
bat. Rent  receivers  form  one  class,  owners  of  pro- 
ductive capital  another,  those  interested  in  banking 
or  loan  capital  a  third  class.  The  unproductive  la- 
borers maintained  out  of  these  incomes — clerics,  ofifi- 
cials,  soldiers,  journalists,  professional  men — con- 
stitute a  fourth  class.  As  for  the  productive  labor- 
ers, Loria  insists  they  do  not  count  at  all  in  the 
state.  Political  changes  are  due  to  economic  condi- 
tions which  disturb  the  balance  of  power  among 
these  four  classes  or  alter  their  groupings.  Politi- 
cal parties  represent  such  groupings;  for  banking 
279 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

capital  is  apt  to  become  the  ally  of  rent,  while  the 
unproductive  laborers  usually  befriend  capital. 

Convinced  that  property  underlies  politics,  Loria 
ventures  to  neglect  men  entirely,  since  they  but 
reflect  their  pecuniary  interests.  So  he  omits  party 
names,  and  puts  forward  income  as  the  active  agent 
in  politics.  We  read  of  profits  "triumphing,"  rent 
"meeting  its  Waterloo,"  land  "uniting  itself"  to 
banking  capital,  small  holdings  "engaging  in  a 
fierce  struggle"  with  great  estates.  In  the  mediaeval 
quarrel  between  Church  and  State  he  sees  only  a 
struggle  between  ecclesiastical  and  secular  prop- 
erty. 

Surely,  such  simplification  masks  the  real  com- 
plexity of  social  phenomena !  Loria,  indeed,  throws 
light  on  law,  politics,  and  finance,  but  he  fails  la- 
mentably in  interpreting  religious  and  ethical  sys- 
tems ;  for  unquestionably  these  are,  to  a  great  ex- 
tent, of  folk  or  universal  origin,  and  by  no  means 
mere  class  products. 

Taking  for  his  theme  conflict j  whether  between 
societies  or  within  society,  Novicow  has  worked  out 
a  scheme  representing  all  its  gradations  and  attenu- 
ations, from  the  wars  of  cannibals  to  the  debates  of 
scientists.  The  struggle  for  existence  he  declares 
to  be  universal ;  but  in  it  he  detects  an  ameliorative 
principle,  whereby  the  stronger  finds  it  his  interest 
to  abandon  brutal  oppression.  Hence  massacre 
tends  to  pass  over  into  robbery,  robbery  into  ex- 
ploitation, exploitation  into  monopoly,  monopoly 
into  privilege,  privilege  into  competition,  competi- 
280 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

tion  into  discussion.  Though  groups  are  animated 
by  self-interest,  the  stronger  will  find  it  more  to 
their  advantage  to  enslave  the  weaker  than  to  eat 
them,  to  trade  with  them  than  to  enslave  them,  to 
assimilate  them  than  to  oppress  them,  and  to  assim- 
ilate them  by  mild  methods  than  by  coercive  meas- 
ures. With  this  amelioration  he  finds  pity  or  phi- 
lanthropy or  religion  has  had  absolutely  nothing  to 
do.  It  is  all  credited  to  the  enlightenment  of  the 
stronger. 

Vaccaro,  in  a  work  less  vivacious  but  more  scien- 
tific than  Novicow's,  undertakes  to  explain  the  dy- 
ing away  of  conflict, — the  "adaptation"  that  comes 
to  pass  between  societies  and  within  societies. 
While  his  survey  of  external  struggle  and  of  the 
causes  that  attenuate  it  constitutes  an  admirable 
resume  of  the  evolution  of  war,  Vaccaro  puts  his 
best  effort  upon  the  phases  and  limits  of  the  internal 
struggle  and  the  means  of  ameliorating  it. 

Unlike  Gumplowicz,  who  insists  that  the  state 
originates  only  with  the  superposition  of  tribes  by 
conquest,  Vaccaro  finds  that  even  in  a  simple  mili- 
tant society  a  coercive  organization  springs  up 
about  the  war  chief.  He  grants,  of  course,  that  the 
composite  society  where  the  undisguised  parasitic 
relation  prevails  between  peoples  is  the  scene  of  the 
most  momentous  deadlock  of  interests.  Even  here, 
however,  there  comes  in  time  a  "let  up"  on  the  part 
of  conquerors,  because  in  this  way  they  economize 
coercion  and  supervision  and  profit  more  than  by  a 
policy  of  violence.  Hope  being  a  greater  stimulus 
281 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

than  fear,  the  masters  find  it  to  their  advantage  to 
concede  the  exploited  a  measure  of  security  and 
freedom.  The  struggle  among  the  conquerors 
themselves  results  usually  in  the  successive  domina- 
tion of  the  warrior,  priestly,  aristocratic,  and  popu- 
lar classes;  and,  as  this  implies  the  exercise  of 
power  by  larger  numbers  and  more  heterogeneous 
elements,  there  ensues  a  gradual  conciliation  of  in- 
terests and  mitigation  of  the  societary  struggle. 

For  the  progress  of  infra-social  adaptation  there 
are  several  causes.  Warfare  leads  to  the  survival 
of  the  best-knit  societies.  As  food  outruns  popula- 
tion, the  "interests"  for  which  classes  contend  cease 
to  be  matters  of  life  or  death.  A  body  of  belief  is 
formed,  which,  transmitted  as  custom,  morality,  and 
law,  hastens  the  mutual  adaptation  of  men.  Se- 
lection weeds  out  the  unsocial  and  favors  the  sur- 
vival of  the  friendly.  Thus  the  adaptive  process 
marches  irresistibly  on;  and,  however  harsh  the 
regime  established  by  the  sword,  power  comes  in 
time  to  be  shared,  legal  rights  are  generalized,  the 
state  ceases  to  be  the  tool  of  parasites,  and  inter- 
class  exploitation  becomes  mild  and  inobvious 
Time,  that  leveller  that  tumbles  the  earthwork  into 
the  trench  and  fills  the  moat  with  the  ruins  of 
the  castle  wall,  wears  down  the  sharp  oppugnances 
of  races,  and  turns  the  cliflFs  and  chasms  of  the  con- 
quest regime  into  the  gentle  declivities  of  the  com- 
petitive society. 

Ratzenhofer  takes  not  the  "social  aggregate,"  but 
the  "social  formation,"  as  his  point  of  departure. 
282 


R£CENT  tENDENCIES 

The  national  group  we  are  apt  to  call  "society"  is 
simply  one  of  the  wider  unions  in  the  ascending 
series  of  forms.  As  some  of  the  firmest,  most  highly 
individualized  social  formations  are  non-territorial, ' 
— i.  e.,  have  horizontal  rather  than  vertical  boun- 
daries,— it  is  idle  to  identify  "society"  with  any  local 
or  regional  group.  The  state,  indeed,  has  a  defined 
area;  but  the  state  is  not  the  bottom  fact  of  social 
science.  For  the  sociologist  the  primary  element  is 
a  definite  cluster  of  persons  conscious  of  a  joint  in- 
terest and  facing  other  groups  as  a  unit. 

Between  such  a  group  and  an  org^jiism  there  is 
a  real  analogy.  Like  a  living  body,  it  has  the  power 
of  self-movement,  its  course  being  determined  by 
the  unifying  interests  of  the  members  and  by  their 
ideas  and  feelings  respecting  the  forces  in  their  en- 
vironment. It  grows  through  the  attraction  of  new 
members  up  to  the  limit  that  defines  its  natural 
sphere  of  usefulness.  Further  growth  resembles 
fatty  degeneration,  and  is  hurtful ;  for  the  adhesion 
of  persons  less  and  less  sympathetic  with  the  origi- 
nal spirit  of  the  group  brings  dissension.  The  group 
then  throws  off  seceding  groups,  the  offspring  vary- 
ing more  or  less,  from  the  parent.  If  the  parent 
group  is  unable  to  recover  its  original  ideal,  it  disin- 
tegrates, and  its  members  enter  other  combinations. 

The  interest  group  also  resembles  a  person  in  that 
it  elaborates  a  group-will,  which  differs  from  and 
reacts  upon  the  individual  will  of  its  members.  This 
will  is  the  resultant  of  the  wishes  of  its  members,  on 
the  one  hand,  and,  on  the  other,  of  the  impulses 
283 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

given  by  rival  or  dominant  groups  in  its  environ- 
ment. If,  in  striking  the  balance,  the  leaders  give 
too  much  weight  to  the  crude  demands  of  adherents, 
the  group  projects  shatter  on  the  opposition  they 
arouse.  If  too  little  weight  is  given,  the  adherents 
become  lukewarm  and  fall  away.  The  group-will 
dominates  most  when  founded  on  common  interests, 
so  that  each  may  hope  for  something  for  himself 
from  every  victory  of  his  group.  Nevertheless, 
group  success  requires  the  renouncing  of  some  pri- 
vate aims,  and  hence  implies  limitation  upon  the  in- 
dividual will. 

Interest  groups  vary  in  degree  of  individualiza- 
tion. If  the  animating  purposes  and  guiding  ideas 
of  such  a  group  are  vague,  it  will  show  no  definite 
boundary  and  no  strongly  marked  character.  It 
will  readily  split  up  or  unite  with  other  groups.  But, 
the  more  distinct  its  aim  from  rival  aims  in  its  en- 
vironment, the  more  it  will  feel  itself  apart  in  origin 
and  destiny.  If  evoked  by  an  imperious  need,  it 
will  exact  the  undivided  allegiance  of  its  members, 
and  it  will  be  loath  to  admit  persons  that  are  not 
wholly  devoted  to  its  aims. 

Every  group  tends  to  form  an  authority  consti- 
tuted by  a  few,  to  which  the  rest  are  subject.  When 
this  is  exaggerated,  when  the  group  individualizes 
too  much,  becoming,  as  it  were,  too  absolute  an  ego, 
there  comes  from  without  a  socializing  impulse,  a 
waft  of  freedom,  which  relaxes  outgrown  authority. 
In  the  history  of  every  group  there  is  alternation  of 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

hardening  and  loosening,  of  compulsion  and  eman- 
cipation. 

The  social  process  is,  in  fact,  double.  The  en- 
ergy of  opposition  a  group  encounters  gives  it  con- 
sistency and  unity,  accentuates  its  specific  and  dis- 
tinctive character.  On  the  other  hand,  multiplying 
points  of  agreement  between  its  members  and  out- 
siders tone  down  the  peculiarities  of  the  group, 
weaken  its  organization,  level  the  barriers  it  has 
raised  against  rivals.  Thus  individualization  and 
socialization  work  incessantly  in  a  people.  Who- 
ever seeks  refuge  from  the  inclement  struggle  for 
existence  betakes  himself  to  the  shelter  of  his  group. 
Whoever  is  galled  by  the  yoke  of  his  group  seeks 
support  elsewhere. 

There  is  no  question  that  the  recognition  of  the 
infra-social  struggle  is  bound  to  leave  a  deep  im- 
press on  sociology.  Though  psychologists  scout 
the  old  doctrine  that  society  is  a  balance  of  personal 
egoisms,  we  are  not  thereby  debarred  from  regard- 
ing it  as  a  balance  of  class  egoisms,  seeing  that 
groups  are  demonstrably  more  self-centered  than 
the  persons  composing  them.^  Nevertheless,  the 
new  doctrine  needs  to  be  shorn  of  certain  East- 
European  exaggerations,  and  coordinated  with  es- 
tablished sociological  principles. 

The  notion  that  associations  founded  on  interest 
are  absolute  units,  and  know  no  limits  to  their  selfish 
aggressions,  contradicts  the  law  that  sympathy  is 

*  See  the  author's  Social  Control,  pp.  71-76. 
285 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

strong  in  proportion  to  the  degree  of  resemblance 
recognized.  The  Freemason  or  the  friar,  the  capi- 
talist or  the  union  laborer,  keeps  a  bit  of  his  person- 
ality, even  if  he  has  cast  in  his  lot  with  an  aggres- 
sive association.  When  the  demands  of  his  group 
reach  a  certain  pitch  of  exorbitance,  he  remembers 
he  is,  after  all,  a  man  and  a  citizen.  Thus  group-to- 
j  group  struggle  is  moderated  by  the  consciousnes  of 
/  a  common  nationality  and  culture.  A  perfect  group 
unity  can  arise  only  from  an  absolute  enmity,  and 
this  will  be  found  only  between  distinct  races.  In 
the  United  States  all  the  worst  lawless  societies — ^^ 
Molly  Maguires,  Mafia,  Ku-Klux  Klan,  Clan-na- 
gael — have  had  their  roots  in  the  opposition  of  races 
rather  than  the  clash  of  interests. 

The  idea  that  every  struggle  group  exerts  always 
\  its  utmost  power,  and  goes  the  full  length  of  its 
tether,  is  at  variance  with  the  principle  that  the  will 
to  resist  is  greater  than  the  will  to  aggress.^  Our 
American  experience  shows  that  those  classes  en- 
gaged in  industrial  pursuits — farmers,  miners, 
artisans — are  more  ready  in  defence  than  in  ag- 
gression; whereas  those  engaged  in  pecuniary  em- 
ployments— merchants,  manufacturers,  bankers, 
railroad  men — are  nearly  as  vigorous  in  aggression 
as  in  defence.  In  the  progress  of  a  victorious  group 
composed  of  industrials  there  is  a  point  at  which  the 
feeling  spreads  that  further  advantages  at  the  ex-- 
pense  of  other  classes  would  be  "unfair,"  and  be- 
yond this  point  the  vigor  and  unity  of  action  decline. 

*  Social  Control,  p.  38. 

286 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

Because  of  these  "dead  points"  in  the  will  to  self- 
aggrandizement,  it  is  possible  to  set  up  a  political 
system  in  which  the  tension  and  struggle  of  classes 
is  happily  brought  to  a  minimum. 

Again,  it  is  indubitable  that  the  individuality  of  a 
struggle  group  varies  inversely  with  the  individual- 
ity of  the  containing  society;  and  this  in  its  turn 
varies  directly  with  the  amount  of  opposition  the 
society  has  to  encounter.  For  it  is  a  universal  law. 
that  the  bonds  of  any  group,  he  it  great  or  small \ 
tighten  with  danger  and  relax  with  security.  Just 
as  the  ego  attains  self-consciousness — so  we  Sre  told 
— through  the  non-ego,  a  nation  "finds"  herself 
through  her  awareness  of  other  nations.  "Iron 
sharpeneth  iron,"  and  the  clash  with  oppressors  or 
foes  hardens  a  folk  and  hushes  the  strife  of  factions. 
No  nation,  for  example,  has  been  so  conscious  of 
other  nations  as  rivals  or  critics  as  modern  Japan; 
and  no  people  has  shown  a  fainter  sense  of  divisive 
interests  than  the  Japanese.  Complacent,  self-cen- 
tered China,  on  the  other  hand,  cankered  by  clan 
and  class  selfishness,  needs,  it  is  said,  but  a  vivid 
sense  of  other  nations  to  fight  or  emulate,  to  close 
up  her  ranks  and  develop  a  patriotic  spirit.  A 
people  engrossed  in  private  aims  tends  invariably 
to  fall  into  struggle  groups;  yet,  if  a  national  aim 
presents  itself, — say  a  defensive  war, — the  socializ- 
ing process  is  set  up  and  the  rifts  close. 

Finally,  the  cohesion  of  groups  and  their  ability  to 
face  and  fight  one  another  as  units  implies  a  re- 
luctance of  their  members  to  compete  among  them- 
287 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

selves.  But  this  reluctance,  while  partly  due  to 
consciousness  of  kind,  is  certainly  due  in  part  to  the 
difficulty  of  one's  getting"  on  by  individual  efforts. 
In  a  thoroughly  competitive  society  that  knows  no 
legal  or  social  barriers  to  the  ascensional  energy  of 
the  individual,  class  groups  are  apt  to  be  loose  in 
texture  and  vague  of  outline.  With  competition 
free  and  fair,  the  more  vigorous  prefer  to  struggle 
and  triumph  as  individuals  rather  than  as  myrmi- 
dons. Since  they  infect  the  rest  with  this  tonic 
spirit  of  self-reliance,  the  law  holds,  the  more  uni- 

I  versa!  the  man-to-man  struggle,  the  less  pronounced 

^  is  the  group-to-group  struggle. 

Besides  these  four  limiting  principles,  there  are 
several  circumstances  that  affect  the  degree  of  in- 
testinal strife  in  a  society  undergoing  economic  dif- 
ferentiation. The  alienation  of  classes  is  limited  by 
systems  of  regulative  ideas  of  a^  universal  charac- 
ter,— B,  common  religion,  moral  ideal,  or  political 
faith, — developed  before  the  rise  of  classes.  Perfect 
freedom  to  agitate  and  discuss  often  makes  it  pos- 
sible to  reach,  even  on  a  matter  affecting  interests, 
a  truly  public  opinion,  overruling  and  superseding 
the  jarring  opinions  prompted  by  class  bias.  Again, 
when  a  society  is  at  once  competitive  and  dynamic, 
so  that  individuals  constantly  mount  to  a  higher  or 
sink  to  a  lower  plane,  a  sense  of  class  interest  is 
slow  to  form.  The  secret  hope  of  rising  prompts 
many  a  man  to  identify  himself  in  imagination  with 
the  class  he  hopes  to  belong  to  rather  than  the  class 
he  actually  belongs  to.     The  conflicts  that,  in  view 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

of  their  clear  oppositions  of  interest,  one  would  ex- 
pect to  break  out  between  commoners  and  nobles, 
between  peasants  and  bourgeoisie,  between  work- 
ingmen  and  employers,  are  frequently  averted  be- 
cause the  natural  leaders  and  moulders  of  opinion 
among  the  workingmen  hope  to  become  capitalists, 
the  peasants  expect  to  see  their  sons  in  the  profes- 
sions, the  rich  commoners  trust  to  work  themselevs 
or  their  families  into  the  peerage.  Furthermore,  so 
far  as  the  personnel  of  the  social  strata  is  fluid  and 
changing,  their  conflicts  of  interest  are  not  aggra- 
vated by  the  inbred  antipathies  that  spring  up  be- 
tween hereditary  classes.  Free  education,  too,  since 
it  facilitates  the  upward  movement  of  brains,  hin- 
ders the  crystallization  of  class  feeling. 

Moreover,  the  pulse  of  national  life  responds  to 
the  ebb  and  flow  of  prosperity.  Sectional  or  class 
antagonisms  evoked  by  special  stress  die  away  with 
the  conditions  that  gave  them  birth.  In  hard  times 
suffering  classes,  becoming  irritable,  spit  and  claw 
at  one  another ;  but  in  good  times  they  lap  content- 
edly at  the  same  saucer  of  milk.  The  free  expan- 
sion of  national  energies  makes  for  social  peace, 
while  a  pent-up  people  tends  to  split  up  into  jarring 
groups.  The  two-party  system  presupposes  a  low 
intensity  of  class  opposition,  and  it  seems  to  prevail 
only  among  people  that  enjoy  wide  outlets  for  their 
energies. 

On  the  whole,  however,  it  is  the  popularizing  of 
government  that  has  done  most  to  quiet  the  infra- 
social  struggle.  Almost  everywhere  the  state  be- 
19  289         ' 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

gan,  not  as  organ  of  society,  but  as  engine  of  an  ex- 
ploiting class.  If  through  most  of  the  Occident  it 
no  longer  bears  this  grim  look,  it  is  because  class 
after  class  has  come  to  consciousness,  and  fought  its 
way  to  participation.  As  each  lower  and  wider 
layer  of  the  people  learns  to  cohere  effectively  about 
its  vital  interests,  the  state  becomes  more  socialized, 
— a  compromise  between  classes,  perhaps,  but  no 
longer  the  monopoly  of  one  class.  Slipping  from 
the  grasp  of  the  few  into  the  hands  of  the  many, 
government  becomes  impartial  and  tolerant,  the 
warfare  of  interests  becomes  in  consequence  less 
virulent,  and  the  struggle  groups  cease  to  be  close 
of  grain  and  firm  of  outline. 

But  it  would  be  rash  to  conclude  that  the  societary 
struggle  is  presently  to  die  out.  In  an  advanced 
economy  divisive  interests  will  continue  to  marshal 
meh  into  different  camps.  Under  the  popular  state 
the  embattled  groups,  conscious  of  a  fair  field,  may 
renounce  envenomed  weapons  and  foul  play,  the 
collision  may  leave  behind  it  no  inveterate  hatreds; 
but  men  will  not  cease  to  struggle  groupwise  until 
they  cease  to  have  closer  relations  or  greater  com- 
munity of  interests  with  some  of  their  fellow-citi- 
zens than  with  all. 

III.     Original  Differences  in  Population.* 

To  account  for  certain  groupings,   oppositions, 
and  interactions  by  original  differences  in  persons. 
The  earlier  sociologists  were  handicapped  by  their 

^  See  appended  bibliography,  III. 
290 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

ignorance  of  the  qualitative  differences  in  a  popula- 
tion. Comte  ignores  them  entirely.  Schaffle  con- 
fesses :  "The  classification  of  population  according 
to  intellectual,  aesthetic,  and  moral  traits  is  difficult. 
These  traits  have  not  yet  been  sufficiently  observed. 
We  have,  therefore,  to  leave  at  this  point  an  un- 
fillable  gap."  Spencer  develops  quite  fully  the  dif- 
ferences— physical,  emotional,  and  intellectual — be- 
tween primitive  men  and  the  culture  races;  but  a 
modern  social  population  presents  itself  to  him  as 
relatively  homogeneous.  The  differences  he  makes 
use  of  are  not  qualitative,  but  quantitative ;  i.  e.,  dif- 
ferences in  degree  of  strength  or  ability  or  enlight- 
enment. Even  here  he  has  not  gone  far  enough  to 
please  all,  and  Mr.  Mallock  has  formally  impeached 
him  for  greatly  undervaluing  and  understating  the 
role  of  the  exceptional  man  in  social  evolution. 

Now,  the  moment  the  sociologist  undertakes  "to 
explain  social  phenomena,"  he  is  staggered  by  the 
variety  of  reaction,  the  unlikeness  of  response  to 
like  stimulus,  exhibited  in  a  given  group.  Here  are 
contrasts  of  devout  with  undevout,  of  back-lookers 
(traditionalists)  with  forelookers,  of  forth-faring 
with  barnacles,  of  spenders  with  savers,  of  risk- 
lovers  with  risk-shunners,  of  sporting  with  Puri- 
tanic. Have  these  all  been  differentiated  out  of  a 
homogeneous  population  by  environment,  circum- 
stance, or  training?  Do  men  draw  apart  into  con- 
servatives and  radicals  solely  from  personal  or  class 
interest?  Can  we  explain  such  oppositions  as  Cava- 
lier and  Roundhead,  conformist  and  dissenter,  stal- 
291 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

wart  and  mugwump,  in  terms  of  surroundings  ?  Are 
Salvationists  and  Presbyterians  merely  different 
forms  of  the  same  human  material  ?  Is  it  addiction 
to  unlike  activities  that  explains  the  contrast  of  bel- 
licose and  peace-loving? 

This  wealth  of  contrast  the  sociologist  can  lay  to 
the  differences  of  place  and  function  in  society  only 
so  long  as  he  sticks  to  the  panoramic.  The  moment 
he  condescends  to  the  details  of  the  Here  and  Now 
he  finds  the  method  too  simple.  It  is  like  undertak- 
ing to  copy  an  elaborate  picture  in  mosaic,  with  bits 
of  stone  of  different  sizes,  but  all  of  the  same  color 
and  shape. 

It  is  easy  to  show  that  variety  in  the  elements  of  a 
population  enriches  social  life.  Of  all  communities 
a  mining  settlement  is,  perhaps,  the  least  interesting 
to  a  sociologist,  because  its  characteristics  reflect  so 
faithfully  the  characteristics  of  its  members.  Now, 
into  this  assemblage  of  men  introduce  an  equal* 
number  of  women.  Soon  we  have  new  conventions 
— modesty,  chivalry — and  new  institutions — mar- 
riage, law  of  domestic  relations,  the  home.  With 
the  advent  of  children  fresh  complications  arise, — 
age  of  consent,  laws  of  inheritance,  educational 
ideals  and  activities.  Let  there  be  added  to  the 
gold-seeking  type  the  religious,  artistic,  and  intel- 
lectual types  in  the  form  of  evangelists,  poets,  paint- 
ers, philosophers  and  scientists.  At  once  you  have 
a  circle  of  new  activities,  interests,  and  interactions. 
If  now  you  pile  all  this  fabric  on  another  and  lower 
race, — say  negroes  or  Chinese,-=-you  have  a  fresh 

2p2 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

growth  of  conventions  and  institutions  governing 
the  relations  of  the  upper  and  lower  castes. 

With  every  step  in  this  process  the  whole  takes  on 
character  of  its  own,  and  is  less  and  less  to  be  con- 
ceived as  an  average  or  a  resultant  of  its  parts.  A 
social  physiognomy  appears,  which  derives  not  from 
the  qualities  of  the  population,  but  from  the  rela- 
tions and  interactions  arising  out  of  the  contrasts  of 
sex,  age,  type,  and  race  it  contains.  The  conven- 
tions and  institutions  generated  by  the  sex  differ- 
ence or  the  race  difference  will  be  much  the  same, 
whether  the  persons  are  A's  and  B's  in  England  or 
X's  and  Y's  in  Yucatan.  To  just  this  variety  of 
materials  in  a  society  is  due,  perhaps,  that  profusion 
of  forms  which  makes  a  social  life  rich  and  interest- 
ing. 

Since  social  phenomena  betray  the  interaction  of 
unlike  elements,  it  behooves  us  to  examine  the  per- 
sistent differences  in  the  individuals  that  compose  a 
society.  Population  may  look  gray  from  a  distance ; 
but  from  near  by  it  is  seen  to  be  made  up  of  multi- 
colored particles,  which,  when  grouped  like  'with 
like,  give  rise  to  all  manner  of  contrasts  and  effects. 
It  is  careful  inspection  and  analysis  of  population 
that  alone  can  enable  the  sociologist  to  cope  with 
social  reality. 

The  influence  of  certain  sex  contrasts  upon  early 
social  development  has  been  clearly  set  forth  by 
Professor  Thomas.  He  points  out  that  females 
store  up  energy,  while  males  expend  energy.  Hence 
the  one  sex  is  passiv*i,  the  other  active;  physiolog- 
293 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ically  the  one  is  conservative,  the  other  variative. 
From  this  fundamental  contrast  flow  interesting 
consequences.  The  association  that  men  develop 
has  reference  to  food  supply ;  and  its  features — such 
as  mutual  aid,  division  of  labor,  exchange,  com- 
merce— are  but  a  veiled  struggle  making  for  tolera- 
tion, but  not  for  social  sentiment.  The  latter  origi- 
nates in  reproductive  activities.  The  first  group  is 
not  the  family,  but  the  mother  and  her  children ;  and 
the  first  tribe  is  an  aggregation  of  those  related  by 
blood  to  a  group  of  females.  Humanitarian  senti- 
ments have  developed  upon  maternal  aflfection,  and 
political  organization  upon  the  association  of  kin- 
dred. Since  man's  activity  disposed  him  to  exploit 
and  violence  while  woman's  passivity  disposed  her  to 
a  stationary  life,  the  primitive  division  of  labor  lay 
between  the  sexes,  man  taking  to  war  and  the  chase, 
woman  to  agriculture  and  the  house  industries. 
This  is  why,  as  Professor  Mason  has  shown,  the  de- 
velopment of  the  early  arts  and  industries  has  been 
due  to  woman. 

Male  restlessness  leads  to  exogamy,  from  which 
practice  it  results  that  a  man  must  mate  only  with 
a  woman  of  another  group,  who  stays  in  her  own 
group  and  receives  her  husband  as  a  guest.  The 
children  remain  with  the  mother  group,  and  thus 
arises  the  m.etronymic  system  of  kinship  and  the 
metronymic  clan.  Patient  research  has  uncovered 
traces  of  these  in  the  culture  of  every  civilized  peo- 
ple. 

While  the  maternal  system  veils  male  force  with- 
294 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

out  annulling  it,  it  certainly  procures  for  woman  a 
higher  status  than  the  patriarchal  system  that  suc- 
ceeds. By  blood  brotherhood,  secret  societies,  tribal 
marks,  and  religious  dedications,  men  associate  and 
seek  to  escape  from  the  tyranny  of  the  maternal  sys- 
tem. But  it  is  chronic  warfare,  which  finally  devel- 
ops a  strong  organization  of  males,  completely  shat- 
ters the  political  influence  of  the  female,  and  re- 
duces her  to  a  position  of  subjection  until  other 
factors  than  violence  come  to  shape  the  relations  of 
classes  and  sexes. 

While  sex  is  taking  on  a  new  significance  for  so- 
ciologists, there  is  also  a  tendency  to  connect  social 
phenomena  with  race.  Ferrero  has  sought  to  base 
important  moral,  industrial,  and  political  contrasts 
between  the  societies  of  northern  Europe  and  those 
of  southern  Europe  on  a  difference  between  the  fair 
and  the  dark  peoples  in  point  of  sensuality.  Going 
further,  Ammon,  Lapouge,  Closson  and  Ripley, 
from  extensive  observations  on  head  form,  have  dis- 
tinguished three  leading  races  in  Europe,  with  un- 
like psychic  characteristics  attesting  themselves  in 
unlike  social  traits.  At  the  moment  the  social  psy- 
chologists are  announcing,  "The  nature  of  the  unit 
derives  from  the  characteristics  of  the  whole"  these 
"anthropo-sociologists"  are  declaring,  "The  nature 
of  the  zvhole  derives  from  the  characteristics  of  its 
units."  In  a  way  both  theses  are  true.  Custom  and 
convention  are  the  lords  of  most  individual  lives,  but 
race  and  environment  are  the  lords  of  collective  life. 
Even  if  long-headed  blond  communities  are  bound 
295 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

to  be  Protestant,  it  is  still  safe  to  say  of  the  average 
Norwegian  that  he  is  a  Protestant  because  he  was 
reared  in  Norway  and  not  in  Portugal. 

The  anthropo-sociologists  insist  that  communities 
of  the  long-headed  blond  race  are  more  progressive, 
more  prosperous,  more  migrant,  and  more  individ- 
ualistic than  communities  of  the  broad-headed  bru- 
nets.  Furthermore,  in  communities  made  up  from 
both  races  the  differentiation  in  respect  to  wealth 
and  education,  the  stratification  into  classes,  and 
the  contrast  between  city  and  country  will  be  more 
pronounced  than  in  communities  of  either  race. 

Criminal  sociology  owes  much  to  the  labors  of  the 
anthropologists.  A  couple  of  centuries  ago  crime 
was  charged  up  to  personal  deviltry.  When  the 
subjection  of  the  human  will  to  social  conditions 
and  influences  began  to  be  realized,  thinkers  went  so 
far  as  to  deem  crime  a  purely  social  phenomenon- 
Criminals  are  "our  failures."  "Every  society  has 
the  criminals  it  deserves."  Lombroso  and  his 
school,  by  discovering  among  criminals  a  distinct 
human  variety  of  an  atavistic  character,  have  caused 
the  pendulum  to  swing  back  again.  A  good  part  of 
crime  and  pauperism  we  now  lay  to  the  presence  of 
well-marked  types  that  can  be  sorted  out  of  the 
population  by  mere  anthropometry.  The  effort  of 
Lombroso  to  show  that  the  genius  differs  from  other 
men  not  so  much  in  degree  as  in  kind  and  the  en- 
deavor of  his  pupil  Nordau  to  lay  certain  contem- 
porary aesthetic  tendencies  at  the  door  of  an  abnor- 
296 


RECENT  TENDENCIES 

mal  human  variety,  the  "degenerates."  have  been 
frowned  upon  by  most  of  their  scientific  brethren. 

Side  by  side  with  the  anthropologist,  busy  with 
his  distinctions  of  sex,  race,  and  anthropological 
type,  has  worked  the  sociologist,  clumsily  endeavor- 
ing to  do  for  himself  what  the  psychologist  ought  to 
do  for  him ;  namely,  to  break  up  population  into 
psychological  types. 

Thus  Mr.  Brooks  Adams  has  sought  to  explain  the 
course  of  European  history  by  postulating  different 
types  of  men  needing  different  conditions  for  suc- 
cess. In  the  earlier  stages  of  social  evolution  the 
energies  of  men  are  directed  by  Fear,  which,  stimu- 
lating the  imagination,  leads  to  supernatural  re- 
ligion and  the  rise  of  a  priesthood.  In  this  epoch  of 
vivid  imagination  the  dominant  types  are  the  re- 
ligious, the  military,  and  the  artistic.  As  evolution 
proceeds  Fear  dies  away  and  Greed  becomes  the 
animating  spirit  in  society.  This  throws  into  the 
seats  of  power  the  economic  type  of  man,  who  pre- 
vails by  money  as  the  priest  by  incantations  and  the 
warrior  by  arms. 

Tne  Barbarians  that  overran  the  Roman  Empire 
were  ignorant;  and,  when  their  imaginations  were 
quickened  by  Christian  supernaturalism.  the  re- 
ligious-ecstatic type  seized  their  chance  and  founded 
the  theocracy,  that  is  to  say,  the  papacy.  From 
the  time  of  Hildebrand  the  clergy  gained  upon  the 
laity,  the  religious  upon  the  secular,  and  ecclesiasti- 
cal property  upon  lay  property.  The  early  Cru- 
sades and  the  founding  of  the  great  military-re- 
297 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ligious  orders  mark  the  zenith  of  the  emotional  type. 
But  in  thriving  commercial  cities,  like  Venice  and 
Genoa,  there  was  growing  up  an  economic  type  of 
man,  sceptic  and  materialist,  animated  by  Greed 
rather  than  by  Fear,  and  putting  his  trust  in  money 
rather  than  in  the  promises  of  the  priest.  After  the 
Crusades,  the  rise  of  the  towns,  the  spread  of  bank- 
ing, the  rapid  accumulation  of  wealth,  and  the  ap- 
pearance of  centralized  administrations  supported 
by  the  florins  of  the  towns-people,  bring  this  kind  of 
man  to  the  fore.  In  the  conduct  of  affairs  the 
burgher  displaces  the  religious  and  the  martial 
types,  and  the  civil  state  rises  out  of  the  decaying 
feudal  system. 

Adams  regards  the  Reformation  as  an  attempt  of 
the  economic  type  to  get  rid  of  all  fees  to  middle- 
men, whether  priests  or  saints,  by  becoming  their 
own  intercessors  with  the  Deity.  They  substituted 
the  Scriptures  for  an  expensive  priesthood,  and  to 
the  "power  of  the  Keys"  asserted  by  the  Church 
they  opposed  the  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith. 
Thus  he  strides  down  the  centuries,  showing  the 
growing  prevalence  of  the  economic  type  and  the 
increasing  mastery  of  capital  over  the  course  of 
events.  "The  salient  characteristic  of  our  age  is 
the  ascendency  of  the  economic  type  of  man." 
"Since  the  Crusades  the  imagination  has  slowly 
faded,  until  after  the  last  great  acceleration  marked 
by  the  locomotive  and  electricity  it  has  fallen  into 
contempt."  "The  spark  of  faith  has  flickered  so 
low  that  capital  will  no  longer  hire  it,  even  as  the 
298 


RECENT  TENDENCIES 

Stuarts  hired  It,  as  an  agent  of  police."  "The  artist 
has  become  the  creature  of  a  commercial  market." 
Prose  has  completely  supplanted  poetry,  "while  the 
economic  intellect  has  grown  less  tolerant  of  any 
departure  from  those  representations  of  nature 
which  have  appealed  to  the  most  highly  gifted  of  the 
moneyed  type  among  successive  generations.  Hence 
the  imperiousness  of  modern  realism."  Greek  and 
Gothic  architecture  represented  imaginative  ideals, 
but  since  the  Reformation  "wealth  is  the  form  in 
which  energy  seeks  expression;  therefore  since  the 
close  of  the  fifteenth  century  architecture  has  re- 
flected money." 

Piquant  as  this  is,  Adams  has  neglected  to  provide 
for  his  succession  of  types  a  well-thought-out  basis. 
He  does  not  make  clear  whether  it  takes  place  be- 
cause the  economic  type  survives  while  the  emo- 
tional type  starves  or  because  commerce  and  indus- 
try transform  men  of  one  type  into  another  type,  or 
because  the  forces  of  the  age  elevate  to  the  control 
of  affairs  at  one  time  imaginative  men  and  at  an- 
other time  calculating,  economic  men.  In  this  state 
of  vagueness,  Adams's  theory  cannot  be  taken  as 
more  than  a  brilliant  suggestion. 

Professor  Patten  paves  the  way  for  his  interpre- 
tation of  English  history  by  resolving  population 
into  four  types.  The  dingers  are  strongly  attached 
to  their  birthplace,  faithful  to  the  customs  of  their 
fathers,  and  loth  to  migrate.  They  are  born  con- 
servatives, never  willing  to  relinquish  what  they 
have  in  order  to  grasp  at  a  better.  Cautious  and 
299 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

dependent,  they  worship  the  great  and  swell  the  ad- 
miring retinue  of  those  powerful  enough  to  grant 
them  protection.  The  sensualists  are  persons  whose 
strong  passions  prompt  them  to  break  away  from 
cramping  local  conditions  in  quest  of  a  few  domi- 
nant pleasures.  Reared  in  a  poor  environment  and 
insatiable  in  desire,  they  make  their  way  into  fertile, 
settled  regions  as  conquerors  and  exploiters.  In  a 
composite  society  they  are  the  risk-takers  and  ad- 
venturers. From  their  ranks  are  recruited  soldiers, 
explorers,  prospectors,  pioneers,  and  emigrants. 
They  settle  new  lands,  open  routes  of  trade,  and  or- 
ganize new  industries,  pressing  ever  to  the  perilous 
edge  where  great  prizes  glitter  above  great  risks. 

In  a  more  advanced  society  appears  an  offshoot 
of  the  sensualists  termed  the  stalwarts,  from  their 
fidelity  to  abstract  principles.  In  religion  the  stal- 
wart makes  a  fetich  of  creed,  and  prides  himself  on 
his  orthodoxy.  His  morality  is  ascetic,  a  series  of 
"thou  shalt  not"s.  In  politics  he  is  democratic  and 
Utopian.  In  industry  he  is  thrifty  but  not  adventur- 
ous. The  stalwart  is  a  missionary  for  the  cause  he 
believes  in,  and,  if  able,  crushes  whom  he  cannot 
convert.  He  is  independent  and  dislikes  middle- 
men, whether  in  trade,  in  politics,  or  in  religion. 
He  is  zealous  for  the  Bible,  the  Constitution,  the 
moral  law,  but  reads  into  them  his  own  ideals.  The 
Puritans,  the  Presbyterians,  the  Quakers,  and  later 
*  the  liberals  and  the  democrats  exemplify  the  stal- 
wart type. 

Finally  there  develop  among  the  leisured,  salaried, 
300 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

and  professional  classes,  who,  unlike  the  masses,  are 
shielded  from  the  bitter  struggle  with  external  con- 
ditions, the  mugwumps.  These  ruthlessly  dissect 
and  criticise  the  dogmas  and  ideals  of  the  multitude, 
and  hence,  though  few  in  numbers,  exert  at  times 
a  great  influence.  They  are,  in  fact,  stronger  in 
criticism  than  in  action;  for  they  are  too  opinion- 
ated to  act  together  and  carry  out  a  policy  of  their 
own.  The  mugwump  is  rationalist  in  opinion  and 
cosmopolitan  in  sympathies.  He  dislikes  ideals, 
dogmas,  and  Utopias,  and  loves  to  expose  sham  and 
cant. 

Of  these  types  the  first  two  are  original  and  the 
last  two  evidently  of  later  growth.  Social  history 
is  made  by  the  struggle  of  these  types  to  impress 
their  respective  ideals  upon  national  character.  The 
outcome  from  age  to  age  changes  with  the  changing 
conditions  of  survival.  Being  an  ultra-Darwinist, 
Patten  watches  narrowly  the  vicissitudes  in  the 
food,  clothing,  housing,  and  habits  of  a  people,  in 
order  to  see  what  kind  of  man  is  surviving  and  what 
kind  dying  out.  The  beginnings  of  plenty  in  the 
Middle  Ages  decimated  the  sensualists,  and  the  ab- 
stemious Puritan  drew  to  the  front  by  reason  of  his 
steady  habits.  But  the  indoor  Puritans  were  too 
ascetic  to  look  after  their  comfort,  and  consump- 
tion thinned  them  to  the  vanishing  point.  Their 
impress,  however,  remained.  England  adopted  their 
domestic  ideal,  adding  to  it  outdoor  exercise  and  the 
bath-tub.  "An  unbathed  Englishman  is  a  sensual- 
ist. A  bath  turns  him  into  a  gentle  optimist." 
301 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Patten  has  analyzed  population  as  a  shrewd  and 
observant  field  economist  rather  than  as  a  psycholo- 
gist of  the  schools.  His  classification  may  not  be 
scientific,  but  it  is  practical ;  and  for  a  first  attempt 
it  lio^hts  up  matters  wonderfully.  No  student  of 
social  theory  can  aflFord  to  neglect  it. 

Professor  Giddings  posits  four  types  of  character, 
— the  forceful,  the  convivial,  the  austere,  and  the 
rationally  conscientious.  The  forceful  are  fearless, 
adventure-loving,  and  fond  of  athletic  exploits,  feats 
of  arms,  and  dangerous  occupations.  Their  amuse- 
ments are  drinking,  wrestling,  fencing,  gambling, 
dancing,  etc.  Men  of  this  type  take  to  seafaring, 
fishery,  mining,  ranching,  and  the  railroad,  fire,  and 
police  services.  The  convivial  man  takes  to  safe, 
commonplace,  profitable  occupations.  His  pleasures 
are  of  the  sensory  and  emotional  kind.  He  is  a 
good  liver,  gambles,  frequents  races,  prize  fights., 
and  theatres,  but  does  not  care  to  engage  in  active 
sports.  The  austere  type  is  represented  by  the 
Puritan  and  the  reformer.  Finally,  we  have  the 
rationally  conscientious  man,  who  enjoys  all  pleas- 
ures temperately,  and  has  intellectual  and  scientific 
tastes.  His  avocations  are  literature,  art,  science, 
and  citizenship. 

This  classification  follows  that  of  Patten  save  that 
the  dingers  are  very  properly  merged  with  other 
types  and  the  sensualists  are  broken  up  into  the 
forceful  and  the  convivial.  Professor  Giddings 
goes  on  to  distinguish  four  types  of  intellect  and 
four  types  of  disposition.    Uniting  these,  he  under- 

3D2 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

takes  to  split  up  population  into  four  types  of  mind, 
— the  Ideo-motor,  the  Ideo-emotional,  the  Dogmatic- 
emotional,  and  the  Critical-intellectual. 

The  lowest  is  forceful  in  character  and  instinctive 
in  its  activities.  It  has  few  ideas,  and  these  are 
reached  by  perception  and  conjecture.  The  Ideo- 
emotional  man  is  convivial,  emotional,  and  suggest- 
ible. His  intellect  is  imaginative,  he  gets  his  beliefs 
by  suggestion,  and  he  habitually  reasons  from  su- 
perficial analogy.  The  Dogmatic-emotional  type  is 
Patten's  stalwart.  He  is  austere,  domineering,  and 
has  fixed  beliefs  determined  not  from  without,  but 
by  his  emotions  and  temperament.  He  reasons  de- 
ductively from  premises  he  has  accepted  on  trust. 
The  highest  type,  the  Critical-intellectual,  is  marked 
by  breadth  and  balance,  clear  perceptions,  sound 
judgment,  careful  reasoning,  and  critical  thinking. 
The  disposition  is  creative,  and  the  character  ration- 
ally conscientious. 

Giddings  has  ventured  to  distribute  the  popula- 
tion of  the  United  States  among  these  classes,  and 
finds  that  three  per  cent,  are  of  the  lowest  type,  and 
one  and  a  half  per  cent,  of  the  highest.  The  Ideo- 
emotional  people  are  much  over  a  quarter,  the  Dog- 
matic-emotional people  a  fifth,  and  a  third  of  the 
population  falls  between  the  classes.  He  even  lo- 
cates the  types  of  character.  The  forceful  congre- 
gate about  seaboard  and  lakeboard,  in  all  the  moun- 
tain regions,  and  on  the  great  plains.  The  convivial 
predominate  in  the  South.  The  austere  are  thick- 
est in  a  broad  belt  reaching  from  New  England  to 
303 


FOUNDATIONS   OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Iowa  and  Kansas.  The  rationally  conscientious  are 
found  here  and  there  in  cities. 

In  all  the  foregoing  Giddings  has  simply  raised 
psychology  a  story  higher.  But  he  goes  on  to  ex- 
ploit the  meaning  of  it  for  sociology;  and  in  so 
doing  he  has  made,  I  think,  a  first-class  contribution 
to  the  science.  For  he  finds  that  the  chief  stages  in 
social  development  answer  to  the  predominance  of 
one  or  another  of  these  types.  When  people  are 
mainly  of  the  Ideo-emotional  sort,  their  cooperation 
will  be  eflfected  through  sympathy  and  will  be  mob- 
bish.  Once  mass  action  of  this  kind  took  the  form 
of  crusades,  insurrections,  and  revolts.  To-day  it 
manifests  itself  in  booms,  panics,  crazes,  political 
landslides,  sympathetic  strikes,  and  revivals.  Con- 
trol of  the  individual  by  spontaneous  collective 
action,  such  as  common  ridicule,  boycotting,  mob- 
bing, and  lynching,  marks  the  sympathetic  stage  of 
social  union. 

When  the  Dogmatic-emotional  folk  abound,  peo- 
ple act  in  concert  not  from  sympathy,  but  in  conse- 
quence of  having  the  same  beliefs.  When  a  body  of 
transmitted  beliefs  is  deeply  stamped  upon  the  minds 
of  the  young  by  means  of  authoritative  instruction, 
we  get  a  conservative  society  unified  and  held  to- 
gether by  tradition.  But  it  is  always  possible  that 
new  and  enthralling  dogmas,  emanating  from  supe- 
rior men  and  propagated  by  the  zealous,  may  seize 
upon  the  vigorous  dogmatic  part  of  the  population 
and  draw  it  into  a  course  of  radical  action.  The 
prevalence  of  the  dogmatic  type  in  a  community  is 
304 


\ 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

attested  by  reform  agitations  of  a  fanatical  sort,  by- 
strong  partisanship,  by  deference  to  tradition  and 
authority,  and  by  reHance  upon  prohibitory  legisla- 
tion to  regulate  private  conduct.  Characteristic  of 
the  dogmatic  stage  of  like-mindedness  are  definite 
legal  rights,  formal  courts  of  justice,  and  political 
organization. 

When  the  Critical-intellectual  element  becomes 
influential,  concerted  action  rests  upon  deliberate 
agreement  attained  through  criticism,  argument, 
discussion,  and  constructive  reasoning  based  upon 
inductive  research.  A  constant  amalgamation  of 
critical  judgments  with  tradition  results  in  unifying 
tastes,  faiths,  creeds,  standards,  ideals,  and  values. 
The  evidences  of  this  stage  are  free  criticism  applied 
to  religion,  the  development  of  inductive  science, 
the  existence  of  a  scientific  political  economy,  the 
reliance  upon  objective  evidence  in  legal  procedure, 
and  the  habit  of  free  political  discussion. 

Giddings  has  given  us  a  spectrum  of  population 
as  it  is,  not  as  it  was  born.  For  his  schedules  are 
elastic.  Some  people  can  and  do  pass  upwards  on 
the  scale.  Under  the  electrifying  action  of  enlight- 
enment the  human  ox  is  acquiring  nerves,  the  flabby 
emotionalist  is  becoming  vertebrate,  the  hide-bound 
dogmatist  is  limbering  up.  The  higher  schedules 
are  filling  from  the  lower,  and  back  of  it  all  lies  the 
ascent  of  the  intellect.  The  stages  in  the  evolution 
of  the  social  mind  depend  on  the  mental  make-up  of 
the  population ;  and  this  in  turn  depends  on  those  in- 
fluences— such  as  leisure,  converse,  instruction,  dis- 
20  30s 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

covery — which  develop  individual  minds.  Giddings, 
then,  agrees  with  Buckle  that  the  tap-root  of  social 
progress  is  intellectual  progress.  He  holds  with 
Comte  against  Marx,  and  his  "four  modes  of  like- 
mindedness"  is  a  good  substitute  for  Comte's  "three 
stages"  of  theological,  metaphysical  and  scientific 
thinking.  At  a  time  when  his  brethren  are  precipi- 
tately striking  their  colors  to  the  economic  material- 
ists, he  sturdily  flies  the  flag  of  intellectualism. 
Rightly,  too ;  for  there  is  a  movement  of  the  human 
intellect  which  has  nothing  to  do  with  economic 
facts.  The  increase  of  knowledge  and  the  altera- 
tion of  economic  conditions  are  independent  causes 
of  social  change.  Let  intellectualism  and  econom- 
ism  be  the  Urim  and  Thummim  of  the  sociologist. 
Both  are  needed,  if  our  science  is  to  move  on  an  even 
keel. 

Ratzenhofer  heeds  nothing  but  congenital  differ- 
ences, notes  only  the  clay  of  human  beings,  and  ig- 
nores the  form  this  clay  has  taken  on.  This  may 
commend  his  classification  to  anthropologists ;  but 
to  us  it  means  less,  seeing  that  social  phenomena 
depend  on  people  as  they  are,  and  not  on  people  as 
God  made  them. 

Distinguishing  in  respect  to  individuality,  vitality, 
sociality,  and  physical  constitution,  he  forms  nine 
classes.  The  first  class  comprises  individuals  of  su- 
perior vigor,  intellect,  and  morality.  They  are  mas- 
terful, self-assertive,  ambitious,  optimistic  people, 
eager  to  cope  with  difficulties  and  carve  out  a  place 
for  themselves.  They  cherish  the  family  ideal,  and 
306 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

are  good  parents.  From  this  class  issue  intellectual 
leaders  and  captains  of  industry.  The  second  class 
comprises  the  multitude  of  narrow,  practical-mind- 
ed people,  animated  by  their  private  interest,  but  still 
able  to  cooperate  with  their  fellows.  What  they  can 
do  depends  on  how  they  are  led.  Under  superior 
guidance  they  are  capable  of  great  things;  but  if 
badly  led  they  soon  fall  into  confusion.  The  third 
class  embraces  the  strong,  noble,  and  self-sacrificing, 
the  abler  of  whom  are  the  moral  leaders  so  long  as 
society  is  in  a  healthy  condition.  They  have  large- 
ness of  soul,  and  naturally  champion  the  collective 
interest.  The  social  welfare  depends  upon  the  num- 
ber and  influence  of  these  public-spirited  men. 

So  much  for  the  normal  people.  The  fourth  class 
is  composed  of  persons  abnormally  egoistic  and  act- 
uated by  greed,  ambition,  vanity,  and  malice.  They 
are  forceful  persons,  hard  to  influence,  and  dead  to 
moral  considerations.  Tyrants  and  demagogues  as 
well  as  the  elite  among  criminals  proceed  from  this 
class.  From  the  fifth  class,  characterized  by  weak- 
ness of  individuality  and  vitality,  such  men  recruit 
their  followers.  Its  members  are  selfish,  unstable, 
and  weak  to  resist  temptation.  Ordinarily,  they  are 
held  in  balance  by  the  better  element;  but  in  trou- 
blous times  they  may  furnish  a  dangerous  support 
to  the  demagogue.  A  sixth  class  embraces  men  of 
strong  individuality  and  impersonal  aims,  but  lack- 
ing in  vitality,  poise,  and  common  sense.  Saints, 
mart3rrs,  fanatics,  ascetics,  and  other  unpractical 
307 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

persons  who  offer  themselves  up  for  an  idea  repre- 
sent this  type. 

The  remaining  classes  comprise  the  various  types 
of  defectives  and  degenerates. 

All  manner  of  momentous  social  changes  flow 
from  changes  in  the  relative  size  of  these  classes  and 
from  circumstances  that  give  the  upper  hand  now 
to  the  constructive  and  now  to  the  subversive  classes. 
Alternations  of  stagnation  and  progress,  of  vigor 
and  feebleness,  of  order  and  anarchy,  or  of  degenera- 
tion and  regeneration,  are  the  work  neither  of  insti- 
tutions nor  of  extraordinary  individuals.  They  are 
due  to  the  shifting  balance  between  the  normal  and 
abnormal  elements  in  the  population.  For  the  key 
to  social  vicissitudes  we  must  seek  among  those  ob- 
scure physiological  factors  which  cause  one  kind  of 
men  to  flourish  and  multiply  while  another  kind 
perishes. 

In  view  of  the  leadership  of  American  thinkers  in 
the  classifying  of  population  one  may  wonder  if  our 
society  does  not  offer  a  rare  opportunity  for  such 
study.  In  central  and  eastern  Europe  it  is  not  easy 
for  the  sociologist  to  read  typal  traits,  obliterated  as 
they  often  are  by  class  traits  and  nationality  traits. 
The  individual  is  a  palimpsest  of  which  the  earlier 
writing  is  undecipherable.  In  France  provincial 
traits  are  obtrusive,  and  one  distinguishes  local 
rather  than  psychological  types.  But  in  the  United 
States  local  t)rpes  are  slow  to  form.  The  class 
stamp  is  not  yet  deep.  There  are  millions  of  iridi- 
viduals  bearing  the  brand  of  no  particular  herd. 
308 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

Moreover,  great  bodies  of  immigrants  are  being  de- 
nationalized. Here,  then,  if  anywhere,  is  a  chance 
to  classify  people  by  traits  that  antedate  social  influ- 
ences and  root  in  mental  constitution  and  tempera- 
ment 

IV.     Derivative  Differences  in  Population* 

To  show  how  well-marked  types  are  created  hy 
place,  work,  social  environment  and  institutions. 

While  social  conditions  can  be  shown  to  flow  ^ 
partly  from  differences  in  the  population,  it  is  also 
true,  though  in  a  less  degree,  that  diversities  in  the 
population  can  be  shown  to  flow  from  social  condi- 
tions, especially  those  of  a  fundamental  character. 
Besides  original  contrasts  in  type  there  are  derived 
differences,  and  recently  there  is  a  marked  tendency 
to  isolate  and  explain  these  derived  differences. 
Spencer,  in  accounting  for  the  moral  contrast  be- 
tween the  members  of  a  militant  society  and  those 
of  industrial  society  by  the  contrast  of  their  predomi- 
nant activities,  took  a  line  that  is  now  eagerly  fol- 
lowed in  the  hope  of  throwing  light  on  the  baffling 
diversity  of  type  and  class. 

More  and  more  the  time-honored  appeal  to  race  is 
looked  upon  as  the  resource  of  ignorance  or  indo- 
lence. To  the  scholar  the  attributing  of  the  mental 
and  moral  traits  of  a  population  to  heredity  is  a  con- 
fession of  defeat,  not  to  be  thought  of  until  he  has 
wrung  from  every  factor  of  life  its  last  drop  of  ex- 

*  See  appended  bibliography,  IV. 

309        ;^ 


FOUNDATIONS   OF   SOCIOLOGY 

planation.  "Blood"  is  not  a  solvent  of  every  prob- 
lem in  national  psychology,  and  "race"  is  no  longer 
a  juggler's  hat  from  which  to  draw  explanations  for 
all  manner  of  moral  contrasts  and  peculiarities. 
Nowadays  no  one  charges  to  inborn  differences  the 
characteristic  contrasts  between  Englishmen  and 
Russians,  between  Jews  and  Christians,  between  Ja- 
vanese and  Japanese.  The  marvelous  transforma- 
tion, to-day  of  Japan,  to-morrow,  perhaps,  of  China 
and  Siam  and  the  Philippines,  makes  one  doubt  if 
even  the  impassive  Oriental  is  held  fast  in  the  net 
of  race.  Perhaps  the  soul-markings  of  Anglo- 
Saxons  or  Slavs  or  Orientals  are  of  societal  origin, 
due  to  the  capitalization  of  centuries  of  experience  in 
unlike  situations,  and  to  the  injection  and  saturation 
of  individual  minds  with  these  transmitted  products 
by  means  of  social  circumpressure.  When  the 
Apache  youth  returned  from  Hampton,  the  Hindoo 
back  from  Eton,  or  the  Chinaman  home  from  Yale 
reverts  to  ancestral  ways,  everybody  cries  "Race!" 
But  why  ignore  the  force  of  early  impressions  ?  If 
we  had  caught  them  as  sucklings  instead  of  as  ado- 
lescents, perhaps  there  would  be  no  reversion.  Why 
should  we  expect  a  few  years  of  schooling  to  bleach 
those  who  have  been  steeped  until  their  'teens  in  a 
special  environment  and  culture? 

To  Vignes  and  other  sociologists  of  the  Le  Play 
school  we  owe  a  new  way  of  accounting  for  local 
types.  The  appearance  of  local  and  provincial  types 
in  a  once  homogeneous  population  has  always  been 
credited  to  the  environment.     But  the  operation  of 

310 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

the  physical  environment  on  character  is  no  longer 
conceived  to  be  so  simple  and  direct  as  Guyot,  Dra- 
per, and  Buckle  assumed.  We  do  not  take  conti- 
nents as  unit  areas  of  characterization.  Religions 
are  not  traced  to  impressions  from  natural  phenom- 
ena. The  aspect  of  Nature  plays  no  such  role  as 
Buckle  assigns  it.  The  newer  view  is  that  Nature 
determines  Work  and  Reward.  Work  in  turn  fixes 
habits  of  life  and  prescribes  the  form  of  land  tenure, 
domicile,  family,  inheritance,  community.  These 
fundamental  institutions,  acting  in  conjunction  with 
the  two  primary  factors,  create  distinctive  aptitudes, 
modes  of  thinking,  customs,  prejudices,  standards, — 
in  a  word,  a  type  of  character.  The  causal  series, 
then,  is  longer  than  Montesquieu  and  Buckle 
thought,  and  more  like  a  net  of  links  than  a  simple 
chain.  No  doubt  environment  is  lord  of  life;  but 
Work,  Reward,  and  Tradition  are  his  viziers. 

Nor  does  one  venture  nowadays  to  connect  the 
traits  of  a  vast  people  with  its  present  physical  sur- 
roundings. It  is  only  little  peoples  that  can  have 
a  special  and  uniform  environment.  In  the  same 
nation  there  are  a  number  of  distinct  regions,  each 
sculpturing  the  soul  of  its  denizens  in  its  own  way. 
These  create  local  types,  but  national  types  can  be 
connected  with  Nature  only  by  the  mediation  of 
such  unifying  and  generalizing  factors  as  tradition, 
assimilation,  national  culture,  religion,  law,  or  his- 
tory. The  larger  and  more  diversified  the  area  in 
which  a  certain  set  of  traits  prevails,  the  more  our 
3" 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

explanation  must  lean  on  race  or  tradition  instead 
of  physical  environment. 

France,  highly  diversified  geographically  and  long 
inhabited  by  an  extremely  stable  population,  abounds 
in  strongly  marked  local  types.  On  these  Demolins, 
the  brightest  intellect  of  the  Le  Play  school,  has 
written  a  book  as  charming  as  Dumas  and  as  con- 
vincing as  Euclid.  Much  as  his  descriptive  "social 
geography"  delights  Frenchmen,  its  interest  for  us 
is  in  his  method  of  accounting  for  local  diversities,- — 
in  a  word,  his  social  causation. 

Take  the  Auvergnat.  Auvergiie  being  a  moun- 
tainous region,  more  suited  to  grazing  than  to  farm- 
ing, its  inhabitants  are  occupied  with  stock-raising, 
especially  the  raising  of  fine  beeves.  The  sale  of  his 
stock  at  the  local  fairs  develops  in  the  Auvergnat 
that  peculiar  skill  in  deceiving  and  blufiing  we  find 
in  our  "horse-trader."  This  shrewdness  in  getting 
the  best  of  a  bargain  fits  him  to  succeed  in  town,  and 
stimulates  a  very  lively  migration  from  pastoral  Au- 
vergne  to  the  centre?  of  trade.  These  migrants  take 
to  peddling  "old  clothes"  and  all  branches  of  the  sec- 
ond-hand business,  because  in  this  petty  commerce 
their  Yankee-like  "smartness"  finds  full  scope.  For 
that  larger  commerce  that  renounces  the  special  bar- 
gain with  each  customer  they  have  no  talent;  their 
peasant  cunning  does  not  avail  them  here.  Even 
when  the  Auvergnat  enters  the  higher  walks,  the 
practical  spirit  of  a  bargaining  folk  shows  itself. 
The  great  men  Auvergne  has  given  to  France  have 
312 


RECENT   TENDENCIES  • 

been  lawyers,  soldiers,  statesmen,  never  writers, 
artists,  or  orators. 

The  tap-root  of  the  Provencal  type  immortalized 
in  Daudet's  Tar  tar  in  is  the  cultivation  of  fruit-trees. 
In  sunny  Provence  nature  works  almost  unaided, 
and  the  farmer  reduces  to  a  gatherer  of  olives  and 
almonds.  Exempt  from  the  heavy  labors  of  the 
tiller  of  the  soil,  he  becomes  indolent  and  easy-going, 
a  lover  of  leisure  and  siesta  and  converse.  As  the 
products  of  his  orchards  are  important  articles  of 
export,  we  find  improved  ways,  developed  markets, 
and  a  taste  for  commerce.  In  fact,  horticulture  and 
commerce  occupy  the  population. 

Fruit-growing  demands  personal  care,  rather 
than  large  capital  and  routine  labor  under  skilled  di- 
rection. It  makes  for  small  holdings  and  a  diffused 
ownership.  Hence  the  Provengals  have  never  been 
feudalized,  have  never  developed  the  social  hier- 
archy that  has  moulded  the  Norman  or  English  soul. 
It  is  their  love  of  equality  that  has  been  the  main- 
spring of  French  republicanism. 

Where  conditions  demand  hard  work,  the  ener- 
getic refuse  to  be  unequally  yoked  with  the  lazy  in 
a  communal  household.  But,  in  Provence,  life  is 
easy;  and  so  the  family  remains  large  and  patri- 
archal. Leisure  and  communal  life  foster  the  gre- 
garious spirit  and  favor  habits  of  social  intercourse. 
The  Provengal  is,  therefore,  sociable  to  the  core; 
and  the  presence  of  others  intoxicates  him.  He 
talks  all  the  time,  talks  in  a  high  voice  in  order  to 
get  a  hearing,  and  habitually  draws  the  long  bow 
313 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

that  he  may  attract  the  attention  of  his  talkative  fel- 
lows. 

Petty  horticulture  permits  agglomeration  into 
towns,  and  so  leads  to  an  extraordinary  development 
of  public  life.  The  lively  municipal  assemblies  and 
agitations  of  Provence  school  the  Provengals  for 
success  in  French  politics  and  administration  just  as 
the  Celtic  clan  has  trained  the  Irish  for  the  capture 
of  our  city  governments.  A  frothy,  emotional  elo- 
quence, a  capacity  for  prompt  cohesion  about  a 
leader  for  the  conquest  of  political  spoils,  and  a  be- 
lief in  the  omnipotence  of  the  state, — all  these  Pro- 
vengal  aptitudes  are  traced  to  a  mode  of  livelihood 
that  exempts  from  hard  work. 

In  Demolins's  melting-pot  that  picturesque  type, 
the  Corsican,  is  resolved  into  a  few  simple  elements. 
He  is  explained  by  two  facts.  His  Work  is  Simple 
Collection, — i.  e.,  grazing  and  horticulture, — and  his 
Place  is  neither  mountain  nor  plain,  but  mountain 
penetrating  and  dominating  the  plain.  Like  all  who 
live  by  tending  and  gathering,  the  Corsican  dis- 
dains intense  labor,  and  leaves  tillage  to  immigrat- 
ing Italians.  When  he  leaves  his  isle,  he  passes  by 
domestic  service,  agriculture,  industry,  and  com- 
merce to  edge  his  way  into  the  army,  the  police,  or 
the  administration.  Since  life  is  not  hard,  the  fam- 
ily community  has  not  been  disrupted  into  simple 
families;  and  the  Corsican  remains  very  sensitive 
to  the  ties  of  blood. 

Shaggy  mountains,  rising  abruptly  from  settled 
valleys,  furnish  an  ideal  refuge  to  law  breakers, 
314 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

who  "take  to  the  brush,"  and  from  there  prey  upon 
and  terrorize  the  population.  Brigandage  in  turn 
develops  the  clan,  and  the  quarrels  of  individuals 
become  the  vendettas  of  clans.  Loyalty  and  clan- 
nishness  and  constancy  in  hatred  as  in  friendship 
thus  become  the  salient  features  of  Corsican  char- 
acter. 

The  opportunity  to  practice  violence  with  impu- 
nity and  the  habit  of  domination, — for  the  bandits 
provide  chiefs  to  the  clans — develop  a  spirit  which 
impels  Corsicans  to  press  into  army,  church,  police, 
politics — any  profession,  in  short,  that  grants  them 
a  morsel  of  authority.  Since  the  clan  organization 
exalts  personal  obligations  at  the  expense  of  civic 
obligations,  political  struggle  is,  among  Corsicans,  a 
form  of  civil  strife,  and  party  success  a  form  of  brig- 
andage. In  Corsica  as  in  Provence  politics  is  a 
fine  art,  but  here  the  leader  is  conspirator  rather 
than  demagogue.  He  leads  by  personal  ascend- 
ency rather  than  by  genial  good-fellowship  and,  like 
the  American  "boss,"  relies  on  "deals"  rather  than 
on  eloquence  to  achieve  his  purpose. 

Flushed  by  the  flattering  reception  of  his  work, 
Demolins  has  recently  broken  off  his  survey  of 
French  types  to  take  up  the  more  ambitious  task 
of  explaining,  by  the  same  method,  the  historical 
peoples.  He  aims  at  nothing  less  than  dispensing 
with  original  human  varieties,  and  deriving  the  at- 
tributes of  each  people,  as  well  as  the  features  of  its 
social  life,  from  the  ^oute  it  has  followed.  A  vol- 
ume on  the  routes  of  the  ancient  peoples  has  ap- 
31S 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

peared,  and  we  are  promised  another  dealing  with 
modern  societies. 

In  his  new  reading  of  human  evolution  the  word 
"race"  hardly  occurs.  This  biological  notion  is  re- 
placed by  a  sociological  notion,  the  "type."  For 
each  route — that  is  to  say,  the  physical  environment 
which  leaves  its  stamp  upon  a  nascent  folk, — there 
is  a  type.  The  steppe,  the  tundra,  the  forest,  the 
desert,  the  valley,  the  seaport,  the  highland,  each 
creates  its  type.  Instead  of  "Mongol  race"  our  au- 
thor would  say  "the  type  of  the  steppe."  The  Lapps 
are  "the  type  of  the  tundras,"  the  Pelasgians  **the 
type  of  the  valley,"  the  Dorians  "the  type  of  the 
mountain."  An  historical  people  is  sometimes  a 
type — the  Chinese — or  a  particular  combination  of 
types — the  Greeks. 

Demolins  does  not  expatiate  on  the  influence  of 
climate  or  the  aspect  of  nature.  Mental  and  moral 
characteristics  are  derived,  not  immediately  from 
the  physical  environment,  but  from  Work  and  from 
Domestic  and  Social  Organization,  which,  in  the 
main,  is  shaped  by  Work.  They  are  consequences, 
not  causes,  of  social  conditions.  To  connect  the 
social  type  with  the  natural  environment,  Demolins 
has  carefully  analyzed  the  early  forms  of  economic 
life.  Acting  on  Le  Play's  maxim,  that  mode  of  live- 
lihood is  the  key  to  social  science,  he  has  unearthed 
a  multitude  of  humble  but  significant  facts  bearing 
on  the  way  men  live.  No  man,  however,  does  well 
to  take  the  globe  itself  as  his  field.  On  the  nomads 
of  the  steppe  and  the  desert  and  on  certain  Med- 
316 


RECENT  TENDENCIES 

iterranean  peoples,  Demolins  is  well  informed  and 
delightful;  but  where  his  facts  are  meagre,  he  is 
more  ingenious  than  convincing. 

We  realize  the  merits  of  his  method,  however, 
when  we  turn  to  the  similar  attempt  of  Matteuzi  to 
exalt  environment  at  the  expense  of  race.  The  Ital- 
ian champions  a  telluric  determinism,  whereas  that 
of  the  Frenchman  is  economic.  He  would  account 
for  a  people  by  the  influences  of  its  historic  seat, 
while  Demolins  seeks  out  the  route  that  formed  the 
people  in  its  plastic  period.  Believing  in  the  inher- 
itance of  acquired  characters,  he  attributes  to  the 
physical  environment  a  cumulative  influence.  It  is 
a  graving  tool  that  cuts  a  little  deeper  each  genera- 
tion. Demolins,  on  the  other  hand,  steers  clear  of 
physiological  assumptions.  The  only  fixation  of 
traits  he  will  recognize  is  that  which  occurs  by 
means  of  social  structure  and  tradition.  When  we 
add  that  Matteuzi,  ignoring  the  role  of  the  individ- 
ual genius,  would  gather  into  the  net  of  his  formula 
even  the  religious,  speculative,  and  artistic  products 
of  a  ripe  civilization,  the  appraisal  of  his  work  is  no 
longer  difficult. 

The  importance  of  race  in  social  philosophy  has 
been  discussed  by  Profesor  Ripley,  and  his  adverse 
decision  is  the  more  weighty  because  he  believes  in 
race  as  a  physical  fact.  He  goes  with  the  crahiolo- 
gist,  in  finding  three  races  in  the  present  population 
of  western  Europe;  but  he  is  not  so  ready  as  La- 
pouge,  Sergi,  or  Bertillon,  to  connect  psychic  traits 
with  physical  traits:  If  comparison  of  head  form, 
317 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

tint,  and  stature  shows  that  two  populations — say 
highlanders  and  lowlanders  or  North  Itahans  and 
South  Italians — are  of  different  races,  the  "anthro- 
po-sociologist"  is  apt  to  hinge  on  this  fact  all  their 
moral  and  social  diversities.  Where  Demolins  ap- 
plies geography  as  the  key  to  local  diversities,  La- 
pouge  applies  anthropology.  Ripley,  on  the  other 
hand,  is  chary  of  ethnic  explanations  of  differences 
between  districts  in  respect  to  domestic  gregarious- 
ness,  political  conservatism,  or  frequency  of  suicide 
or  divorce.  He  concludes:  "Most  of  the  social 
phenomena  we  have  noted  as  peculiar  to  the  areas 
occupied  by  the  Alpine  type  are  the  necessary  out- 
come, not  of  racial  proclivities,  but  rather  of  a  geo- 
graphical and  social  isolation  characteristic  of  the 
habitat  of  this  race.  The  ethnic  type  is  still  pure, 
for  the  very  same  reason  that  social  phenomena  are 
primitive.  Wooden  ploughs  pointed  with  stone, 
blood  revenge,  an  undiminished  birth-rate  and  rela- 
tive purity  of  physical  type  are  all  alike  derivative 
from  a  common  cause, — isolation  directly  physical 
and  coincidently  social.  We  discover,  primarily,  an 
influence  of  environment  where  others  perceive  phe- 
nomena of  ethnic  inheritance." 

On  this  matter  of  social  isolation  some  very  beau- 
tiful work  has  been  done  in  the  course  of  the  last 
ten  years.  A.  Leroy-Beaulieu  set  the  pace  by  his 
brilliant  success  in  using  isolation  as  the  key  to  the 
Jewish  enigma.  The  vulgar  persist  in  regarding  the 
traits  of  the  Jew  as  a  race  endowment.  They  stig- 
matize this  or  that  propensity  of  his  as  "Oriental" 

318 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

or  "Semitic,"  and  therewith  consider  the  matter 
ended.  The  Frenchman  perceived  that  the  Jews 
are  not  a  race,  but  a  people,  and  set  himself  to  ex- 
plain how  their  characteristics  have  risen  naturally 
from  Work  and  Surroundings. 

The  Jewish  type  formed  behind  the  double  chain 
of  barriers  that  for  centuries  separated  the  ortho- 
dox Jews  from  the  European  community;  the  re- 
strictions of  the  mediaeval  Christians  which  penned 
them  up  in  the  Ghetto,  and  the  Mosaic  law  which 
separated  them  from  the  Gentiles  by  a  fence  of  rite 
and  ceremonial  observance.  The  traits  of  the  type 
developed  under  these  two  exclusions, — one  offen- 
sive, the  other  defensive, — express  for  the  most  part 
the  stress  of  social  conditions.  The  Jew  has  an  in- 
comparable value  sense  because  for  generations  he 
was  forced  into  trade  and  money  changing.  He  es- 
teems learning  because  the  distinction  of  the  scholar 
was  open  to  him,  but  not  that  of  the  warrior  or 
statesman.  He  clings  to  his  religion  as  all  dispos- 
sessed peoples  cling  to  the  rock  of  ancestral  tradi- 
tion amid  the  devouring  waves  of  assimilation.  He 
has  his  passions  and  impulses  under  prudent  con- 
trol, as  happens  always  with  unwarlike  people  long 
schooled  in  trade,  city  life,  and  money  dealings.  He 
lacks  in  sense  of  honor  because  the  impulses  radiat- 
ing from  chivalry  had  no  access  to  him.  He  takes 
to  ruse  and  hypocrisy  because  so  long  treated  as  a 
social  pariah.  If  he  has  a  double  code  of  ethics,  it 
is  because  persecution  has  developed  in  him  an  in- 
tense tribal  consciousness  and  a  vivid  sense  of  dif- 
319 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ference  from  Christians.  He  has  the  domestic  vir- 
tues because  family  life  has  been  his  refuge  from 
the  injustices  and  insults  of  social  life.  The  J^w  is, 
then,  a  product;  and  many  of  the  peculiarities 
charged  to  his  Semitic  blood  will  disappear  with  the 
complete  disappearance  of  the  conditions  that  pro- 
duced them. 

To  Miss  Schreiner,  also,  we  owe  some  golden 
pages  on  the  genesis  of  a  type  in  isolation. 
Throughout  the  world  the  half-breeds  of  juxtaposed  ^ 
higher  and  lower  races  have  been  proverbial  for  yIz^' 
ciousness.  The  universal  popular  verdict  is  that  the 
mongrel  is  born  with  a  tendency  to  be  deceitful, 
cowardly,  licentious,  and  without  self-respect.  This 
double  tincture  of  evil  is  commonly  laid  to  crossing, 
on  the  assumption  that  heredity  in  such  case  trans- 
mits to  the  offspring  the  vices  of  both  parents  and 
the  virtues  of  neither.  It  was  left  to  Miss  Schreiner 
to  light  up  this  enigma,  and  to  show  that  the  deprav- 
ity of  the  half-caste  is  a  problem  for  the  sociologist 
rather  than  the  physiologist. 

The  secret  is  that  the  half-caste  issues  from  an 
irregular  union  and  is  without  family  or  people. 
Morally  he  is  a  derelict,  drifting  forlornly  between 
two  societies  but  belonging  to  neither.  Scorned  by 
the  whites  and  despising  the  blacks,  there  is  no  so- 
cial place  for  him ;  and  so  he  lacks  the  steadying  in- 
fluence of  his  kind.  The  pure  black  "is  in  a  society 
which  has  its  own  stern  social  standards  and  ideals, 
by  living  up  to  which  he  may  still  become  an  object 
of  admiration  and  respect  to  his  fellows,  and  above 
320 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

all  to  himself."  "His  tribe  may  be  broken  up,  but 
he  still  feels  himself  an  integral  part  of  a  great 
people,  up  to  whose  standards  he  is  bound  to  live, 
and  in  whose  eyes  as  in  his  own  he  is  one  of  the 
goodliest  and  completest  creatures  on  God's  earth." 
These  race  standards  which  the  sheer  pressure  of 
common  opinion  forces  into  the  soul  of  the  indi- 
vidual do  not  reach  the  half-caste.  The  Kaffir  has 
the  honor  of  a  Kaffir,  the  white  man  the  honor  of 
a  white;  but  there  is  no  half-caste  honor  because 
no  self-conscious  race  of  half-castes  generating  the 
ideals  and  public  opinion  that  support  a  social  line 
of  conduct.  The  half-caste  is  simply  a  fine  clinical 
case  of  social  isolation.  What  more  striking  proof 
could  there  be  that  morality,  for  the  most  part,  takes 
its  rise  in  human  relations ! 

How  far  does  Work  create  diversity  of  character? 
On  this  topic  no  one  has  been  more  ingenious  than 
Professon  Veblen.  He  accounts  for  the  alienation 
of  workingmen  from  the  Church  on  the  ground  that 
the  members  of  the  artisan  class  "are  in  an  especial 
degree  exposed  to  the  characteristic  intellectual  and 
spiritual  stress  of  modern  organized  industry,  which 
requires  a  constant  recognition  of  the  undisguised 
phenomena  of  impersonal  matter-of-fact  sequence 
and  an  unreserved  conformity  to  the  law  of  cause 
and  effect."  Such  experiences  tend  to  derange  ani- 
mistic habits  of  thought. 

The  great  gtilf  between  business  men  and  work- 
ingmen in  type  of  thinking  he  ascribes  to  the  differ- 
ent discipline  involved  in  pecuniary  as  contrasted 

21  321 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

with  industrial  employments.  The  differentiation 
of  these  has  proceeded  so  far  that  nowadays  in  many 
branches  large  bodies  of  workers  have  but  an  inci- 
dental contact  with  the  business  side  of  the  enter- 
prise, while  a  minority  have  little  other  concern  with 
the  enterprise  than  its  pecuniary  management. 
Now,  in  the  pecuniary  occupations,  men  work  with- 
in the  lines  and  under  the  guidance  of  the  great  in- 
stitution of  ownership,  with  its  ramifications  of  cus- 
tom and  legal  right;  while,  in  the  industrial  occu- 
pations, men  are  in  their  work  attentive  to  natural 
law,  and  relatively  free  from  the  constraint  of  con- 
ventional norms  of  truth  and  validity.  The  latter 
fact  explains  the  thriftlessness  and  lack  of  money 
wisdom  among  workingmen,  even  the  high-priced 
experts.  To  it,  also,  is  due  the  spread  of  socialism, 
— a,  movement  which,  quite  unlike  agrarian  and  like 
manifestations  of  class  discontent,  does  not  aim  to 
affect  the  distribution  of  property,  but  to  do  away 
mth  private  ownership  altogether.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  activities  of  the  business  man,  having  more 
to  do  with  competing,  bargaining,  and  the  getting, 
holding,  and  protecting  of  property,  tend  to  conserve 
predatory  habits  and  aptitudes,  to  root  them  in  the 
creed  of  property,  to  train  them  to  believe  in  com- 
petition rather  than  cooperation,  to  kill  any  artistic 
interest  in  industrial  operations,  and  to  dispose  them 
to  appraise  every  process  and  product  at  its  money 
worth. 

From  occupation  it  is  but  a  step  to  economic  rela- 
tions as  a  cause  of  differentiation. 
322 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

The  fundamental  thesis  of  Veblen's  remarkable 
book  is  that  the  possession  of  means  sufficient  to  ex- 
empt from  productive  labor  moulds  so  subtly  the  no- 
tions of  utility,  of  fitness,  of  right,  and  of  beauty 
that  in  the  course  of  time  the  wealthy  become  spir- 
itually a  distinct  type,  so  recognized  by  all  the  world. 
His  consummate  analysis  shows  that  in  every  age 
and  society  the  ''gentleman,"  although  he  may  be — 
quite  incidentally — an  epitome  of  human  excellences, 
is,  in  point  of  origin,  the  finished  product  of  the 
views,  canons,  and  standards  that  develop  inevitably, 
albeit  unconsciously,  in  a  leisure  class  by  sheer  vir- 
tue of  its  pecuniary  independence. 

Why  is  this  class  conservative?  "Wisdom,"  say 
its  friends.  "Self-interest,"  say  its  critics.  But  to 
Veblen  men  are  not  so  rational.  /The  wealthy  leisure 
class  is  conservative  in  temper  because  it  is  shel- 
tered from  the  stress  of  those  economic  exigencies 
which  continually  play  on  other  classes  and  mould 
their  habits  of  thought  to  new  conditions.  There  is 
nothing  to  develop  in  its  members  that  degree  of  un- 
easiness with  the  existing  order  which  alone  can 
induce  any  body  of  men  to  give  up  habitual  views 
and  modes  of  lifej  J 

In  like  vein  Mrs.  Stetson,  who  has  written  a  book 
to  show  that^many  of  the  proverbial  feminine  traits, 
far  from  being  marks  of  sex,  are  simply  outgrowths 
of  the  economic  dependence  of  women  on  men. 
The  exclusion  of  woman  from  working  on  her  own 
account  makes  her  a  kind  of  parasite,  and  develops 
in  her  the  parasite's  tenacity  and  power  of  absorp- 
323 


FOUNDATIONS  OF   SOCIOLOGY 

tion.\  Seeing  that  her  economic  fate  depends  on  her 
being  able  to  win  and  hold  man,  she  invests  too  much 
of  her  personality  in  sex  attraction,  and  becomes 
"oversexed."  Because  she  is  shut  away  from  the 
active  world  within  the  four  walls  of  the  home,  she 
is  limited  in  her  information,  her  ideas,  her  thought 
processes,  and  her  judgment.  Because  she  throws 
her  whole  being  into  the  highly  personal  "home" 
relations,  woman  magnifies  the  personal  and  ignores 
the  general,  is  unwilling  to  "stand  in  line"  or  "take 
turn,"  is  deficient  in  sense  of  justice  and  belated  in 
commercial  or  civic  morality,  is  exaggerated  in  her 
devotion  to  her  own  and  in  ministration  to  their  per- 
sonal needs,  but  weak  in  devotion  to  the  corporate 
I  welfare.  In  fact,  the  sexuo-economic  relation,  if 
unmitigated,  arrests  woman*s  moral  development  at 
the  stage  of  primitive  virtues — and  vices.  The  fact 
that  in  her  marital  tutelage  she  is  always  being 
praised  or  blamed  for  her  conduct  develops  in  her  a 
hair-trigger  conscience;  but  she  is  apt  to  be  pur- 
blind to  law,  justice,  desert.  She  lives  in  a  forcing 
bed  of  sensitiveness  to  distinctions  of  right  and 
wrong,  but  lacks  the  broad  judgment  that  alone 
can  g^ide  and  govern  this  sensitiveness. 

What  a  broad  clearing  in  the  jungle!  Hitherto 
we  have  assumed  that  men  and  women  are  played 
upon  by  the  same  influences,  and  so  their  diflFerences 
in  character  must  be  laid  to  sex.  But  "sex,"  like 
"race,"  is  the  recourse  of  the  lazy.  By  putting  her 
finger  on  economic  dependence  rather  than  on 
"love,"  Mrs.  Stetson  has  closed  a  new  circuit. 
324 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

Woman,  as  Schopenhauer  saw  her,  has  something  in 
common  with  slaves,  courtiers,  onhangers  generally. 
Any  human  being  that  must  depend  not  on  labor  but 
on  closeness  of  attachment  to  some  other  human 
being,  will  develop  many  "feminine"  traits. 
"Woman"  is  by  no  means  synonymous  with  "human 
female."  Certain  proclivities  supposed  to  reach  the 
bed-rock  of  sex  are  found  to  root  in  the  surface  soil 
of  modifiable  social  conditions.  After  Lester  F. 
Ward,  no  one  has  done  more  than  Mrs.  Stetson  to 
show  that  the  woman  question  is  for  the  sociologist 
as  well  as  the  biologist. 

Another  example  of  the  power  of  economic  rela- 
tions to  generate  a  mental  type  is  furnished  by  Pro- 
fessor Turner  in  his  study  of  Western  influence. 
The  reason  why  we  have  produced  an  Americanism 
tangent  to  European  thought  is  that  our  national 
character  has  formed  in  the  presence  of  a  West.  By 
"West"  is  meant  not  an  area,  but  a  condition.  It  is 
the  region  where  the  institutions  and  ideas  of  an 
older  society  are  being  transformed  by  the  influence 
of  free  land.  "A  new  environment  is  suddenly  en- 
tered, freedom  of  opportunity  is  opened,  the  cake  of 
custom  is  broken,  and  new  activities,  new  lines  of 
growth,  new  institutions,  and  new  ideals  are  brought 
into  existence."  Although  this  primitive  society  de- 
velops, differentiates,  becomes  "East,"  the  early  im- 
press abides ;  and  moreover  a  new  West  springs  up 
further  on  to  emit  fresh  impulses  of  equality  and 
individualism.  "Decade  after  decade,  West  after 
West,  this  rebirth  of  American  society  has  gone  on, 
325 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

has  left  its  traces  behind  it,  and  has  reacted  on  the 
East." 

If  the  democratic  temper  pervades  a  community 
because  opportunity  is  open,  manhood  at  a  premium, 
birth  and  inherited  station  at  a  discount,  and  earn- 
ing power  fairly  uniform,  then  we  ought  to  con- 
clude that  colonies  owe  their  democracy,  not  to  their 
newness,  but  to  their  free  land.  Not  escape  from 
traditions  of  subserviency,  but  the  high  economic  po- 
tential of  the  common  man,  is  the  cause  of  their  po- 
litical and  social  democracy.  If  this  be  so,  every- 
thing depends  on  the  relations  of  the  people  to  the 
land.  By  princely  grants  to  the  few  it  is  possible 
to  root  feudalism  even  in  the  wilderness.  The 
strong  Tory,  aristocratic  spirit  that  showed  itself  in 
the  American  proprietary  colonies  was  the  result  of 
great  estates.  In  the  South,  aristocracy  flourished 
with  the  plantation  system  and  languished  in  the  re- 
gions where  small  holdings  prevail. 

California,  when  the  gold-seekers  reached  it,  was 
a  young  country ;  yet  Spanish  grants  had  permitted 
a  semi-feudal  society  to  arise.  Spanish-America,  in 
fact,  unlike  our  quarter-sectioned  West,  never  start- 
ed right  and  never  proved  a  nursery  of  democratic 
ideals.  The  Spaniards,  moreover,  grazed  their 
West ;  and  pastoralism,  from  the  huge  stock-raising 
farms  of  the  old  Narragansett  planters  to  the  wide 
cattle  ranches  of  Argentina  and  the  vast  "sheep 
runs"  of  New  South  Wales,  tends  to  build  up  a  terri- 
torial aristocracy  for  the  same  reason  probably  that 
prehistoric  pastoralism  developed  the  patriarchate. 
326 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

It  is  agricultural  or  mining  communities  with  widely- 
diffused  ownership  that  tend  towards  economic  inde- 
pendence and  equality,  and  are  the  natural  founda- 
tions of  American,  Canadian,  and  Australian  democ- 
racy. We  shall  see  if  a  like  indigenous  democracy- 
develops  in  Siberia,  the  only  virgin  region  in  the 
temperate  zone  now  coming  under  the  plough  of  the 
white  man. 

V.     Social  Selections* 

To  recognise  that  institutions  and  policies  work 
selectively  upon  a  people,  and  may  profoundly  mod- 
ify its  destiny.^ 

Darwin  showed  that  a  species  is  not  stationary, 
but  insensibly  drifts  in  consequence  of  the  fact  that 
those  individuals  with  a  certain  favorable  quality 
or  variation  fare  better  than  other  individuals  in  the 
struggle  for  existence.  The  species,  like  the  glacier, 
moves,  but  so  slowly  as  to  escape  the  common  ob- 
servation. This  process  of  modifying  a  species 
Darwin  called  "natural  selection,"  and  showed  that 
it  applies  to  man  as  well  as  to  the  lower  species. 
But  soon  the  thought  arose,  Does  not  society  impose 
decisive  conditions  as  well  as  nature  f  Alongside  of 
natural  selections  are  there  not — to  use  the  phrase 
coined  by  Broca  in  1872  —  social  selections f  The 
blood  of  a  people  determines  its  social  history.    Does 

^  See  appended  bibliography,  V. 

^  Owing  to  the  recency  of  this  manner  of  thinking,  the 
writer  will  not  confine  himself  to  the  literature  solely  of  the 
last  decade. 

327 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

not  the  social  history  of  a  people,  in  turn,  determine 
its  blood  ? 

To  Gal  ton  belongs  the  honor  of  being  the  pioneer 
I  in  the  study  of  the  reactions  of  society  upon  the  race. 
In  his  Hereditary  Genius  he  charges  the  institu- 
tion of  religious  celibacy  with  brutalizing  the  breed 
of  Europeans.  In  the  Middle  Ages  the  gentlest  na- 
tures sterilized  themselves  by  taking  refuge  in  the 
bosom  of  childless  priesthoods  and  religious  orders. 
The  Church  "acted  precisely  as  if  she  had  aimed  at 
selecting  the  rudest  portion  of  the  community  to  be 
the  parents  of  future  generations.  She  practised  the 
arts  which  breeders  would  use  who  aimed  at  creat- 
ing ferocious,  currish,  and  stupid  natures.**  But 
worse  followed.  "The  Church,  having  first  cap- 
tured all  the  gentle  natures  and  condemned  them  to 
celibacy,  made  another  sweep  of  her  huge  nets,  this 
time  fishing  in  stirring  waters,  to  catch  those  who 
were  the  most  fearless,  truth-seeking,  and  intelligent 
in  their  modes  of  thought,  and  therefore  the  most 
suitable  parents  of  a  high  civilization,"  and  by  per- 
secution "put  a  strong  check,  if  not  a  direct  stop, 
to  their  progeny,"  But  the  servile,  the  indiflFerent, 
and  the  stupid  bred  on. 

Again,  England,  by  extending  a  welcome  to  de- 
sirable types  that  in  vast  number  sought  refuge  with 
her  from  the  brutal,  bigoted  persecutions  of  the 
Continent,  has  undoubtedly  raised  her  average  of 
energy  and  character.  Likewise  the  rapid  rise  of 
new  colonies  and  the  decay  of  old  civilizations  is 
mainly  due,  in   Galton's  estimation,   to  the  social 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

agencies  which  in  the  one  case  promote  and  in  the 
other  case  retard  the  marriage  of  the  more  suitable 
breeds.  In  the  colony  the  men  marry  early ;  and,  on 
account  of  the  fewness  of  women,  the  inferior  men 
find  no  mates. 

Darwin  points  out  that  the  red  hand  of  war  up- 
roots the  wheat  and  leaves  the  tares,  and  that  stand- 
ing armies  give  those  rejected  by  the  recruiting  offi- 
cer an  economic  and  matrimonial  lead  over  those 
selected  to  serve  their  time.  He  observes  that  the 
transmission  of  large  property  shelters  the  children 
of  the  rich  from  selective  stress,  and  confesses  that 
the  inheritance  of  wealth  is  of  social  rather  than  of 
racial  benefit.  Primogeniture  is  still  worse,  for 
worthless  eldest  sons  with  entailed  estates  cannot 
even  squander  their  wealth. 

A  high  standard  of  comfort  and  a  lofty  ideal  of 
family  life  delay  marriage  in  the  finer  strains  of  the 
population,  and  cause  them  to  increase  more  slowly 
than  the  squalid  and  reckless.  This  handicap  is 
only  in  part  neutralized  by  the  higher  death-rate 
among  the  wives  and  children  of  the  lower  classes. 
The  amazing  progress  of  new  countries  has  un- 
doubtedly social  causes ;  but  it  is  also  partly  due  to 
the  fact  that  colonists  are  above  the  average  in 
native  energy,  courage,  and  initiative. 

From  natural  selection  De  Candolle  distinguishes 
artificial  selection  proceeding  from  the  conscious  will 
of  man,  but  he  has  not  isolated  that  intermediate 
form  exercised  by  institutions.  Nevertheless, 
through  his  studies  of  selection  at  different  levels — 
329 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

savagism,  barbarism,  and  civilization — are  scattered 
some  observations  on  social  selections. 

He  points  out  that  among  barbarians  the  strong 
and  successful  man,  because  he  is  allowed  to  mate 
with  several  handsome  and  healthy  women,  distances 
the  mediocre  at  a  rate  he  could  never  attain,  were  he 
held  down  to  one  wife,  y' Moreover,  this  mating,  as 
it  obeys  physical  attraction,  is  peculiarly  favorable 
to  the  perfecting  of  physique.  The  monogamy  of 
civilized  societies,,  on 'the  other  hand,  exalts  female 
choice,  and  by  giving  freer  play  to  sexual  selection 
favors  a  perpetuation  of  good  moral  and  intellectual 
qualities,  albeit  at  the  expense  of  good  looks.  In 
many  persons,  however,  monogamy  even  now  goes 
against  the  grain ;  and  hence,  unhappily,  it  calls  into 
being  the  illicit  polygamy  of  prostitution,  which  con- 
demns to  sterility  a  contingent  of  women  above  the 
average  in  good  looks  and  physique. 

From  the  notorious  fact  that  the  poorer  classes 
multiply  faster  than  the  well-to-do,  De  Candolle  in- 
fers that  an  institution  like  religion,  which  is  handed 
down  in  the  family,  will  triumph  sooner  if  preached 
among  the  poor  than  if  it  is  launched  among  the 
rich.  He  cites  Christianity,  which  won  its  first  fol- 
lowing among  the  humble  but  fertile  classes  of  the 
Roman  Empire,  and  Catholicism,  which  daily  gains 
ground  in  the  United  States  by  the  sheer  fecundity 
of  the  Irish  immigrants. 

A  European  reverberation  has  been  wakened  by 
Nietzsche's  furious  assault  on  the  reigning  ideals. 
According  to  this  ultra-Darwinist,  Christianity,  the 
330 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

apotheosis  of  pity,  the  "reHgion  of  the  suffering,"  is 
a  drug  for  paralyzing  the  arm  of  the  strong.  Our 
democratic  neighbor-morality  is  consecrated  on  be- 
half of  timid,  gregarious  humans,  dreading  the 
trampling  self-assertion  of  the  superior  men.  Under 
the  broad  shield  of  these  restraints  pullulate  and  de- 
generate multitudes  of  sickly  and  ill-constituted, 
who  ought  now,  as  in  the  olden  time,  to  be  harried 
into  fewness  by  the  well-born  and  powerful. 

A  regime  of  peace  and  law  does,  indeed,  slow  up 
elimination  among  men,  just  as  perpetual  June  would 
check  it  among  insects.  But  when  Nietzsche,  going 
further,  imagines  that  order  and  equality  before  the 
law  somehow  hinder  the  finest  men  from  marrying 
the  finest  women,  and  begetting  the  "beyond  man" 
as  promptly  as  nature  will  let  them,  he  parts  com- 
pany with  the  sane. 

A  perplexing  problem  for  the  selectionist  is  offered 
by  the  migrants  that  in  all  civilized  lands  stream  in- 
cessantly from  country  to  city.  This  cityward  drift 
is  very  marked  in  Germany ;  and  to  three  Germans, 
Hansen,  Ammon,  and  Kuczynski,  we  owe  what  light 
has  been  shed  in  the  matter.  Hansen  propounds  the 
thesis  that  the  population  of  cities  tends  constantly 
to  die  out,  and  that  it  is  and  must  be  replenished 
from  the  overflowing  rural  population.  Against  the 
common  opinion  that  the  upper,  middle,  and  lowei 
classes  are  independent  streams  flowing  side  by  side, 
he  insists  that  the  social  classes  are  the  stages  of 
development  of  one  current  of  human  beings  flowing 
from  the  country.  In  the  city  these  immigrants  are 
331 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

gradually  sorted  and  segregated  into  classes.  In 
the  higher  of  these  classes,  families  tend  to  die  out 
rapidly  owing  to  celibacy,  lateness  of  marriage,  and 
the  influence  of  social  considerations  in  matrimonial 
choice.  The  city  is,  then,  a  devourer  of  men,  and 
cannot  endure  without  a  steady  supply  of  fresh  hu- 
man material  from  the  farms. 

Ammon,  building  further,  elaborates  a  complete 
account  of  the  urban  apparatus  for  the  selection  and 
promotion  of  the  fittest.  The  city  is  a  seething 
cauldron  where  the  healthy  overflow  from  the  coun- 
try is  by  competition  stimulated,  tested,  and  diflfer- 
entiated.  Some  individuals  sink,  some  vegetate, 
some  achieve  a  higher  social  position.  The  exist- 
ence of  stratified,  non-intermarrying  social  classes 
insures  that  this  economic  grading  shall  not  be  with- 
out physiological  results.  The  promoted  capables 
not  only  render  efficient  service  to  society,  but  they 
mate  within  their  class  and  beget  offspring  of  more 
than  ordinary  ability.  These  climb  higher,  wed  with 
their  kind,  and  beget  a  progeny  still  richer  in  talent 
and  genius.  But  in  these  forcing  houses  the  human 
crop,  though  choice,  is  light.  In  the  course  of  three 
or  four  generations  of  over-nutrition  and  one-sided 
cerebral  stress  the  superior  stocks  vanish,  and  make 
room  for  sturdy  newcomers  swarming  up  in  just 
the  same  way  from  the  lower  rungs  of  the  social 
ladder. 

The  social  classes,  narrowing  upwards,  constitute, 
then,  a  succession  of  filter  tanks,  or — shall  we  say — 
a  series  of  paddocks  for  grading  up  capables,  bring- 
332 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

ing  them  to  their  utmost  individual  development  and 
causing  them  to  mate  with  their  equals.  By  this 
means  is  society  provided  with  leadership.  But  the 
thoroughbred  stocks  finally  die  out,  so  there  is  no 
lasting  improvement  in  the  human  breed.  Indeed, 
the  current  that  filters  through  this  selective  ap- 
paratus drains  country  districts  of  their  best  ele- 
ments as  well  as  their  worst.  To  this  urban  con- 
sumption, perhaps,  is  due  the  fact  that  within  the 
historic  period  Central  Europe  has  been  impover- 
ished of  its  long-skull  Teutonic  element,  and  shows 
increasing  brachycephaly. 

Kuczynski  subjects  to  a  destructive,  critical  analy- 
sis the  statistics  adduced  by  Hansen  and  Ammon  in 
support  of  their  main  contention.  He  insists  that 
the  evidence  does  not  show  that  the  city  population 
is  incapable  of  renewing  itself  indefinitely  from  its 
own  loins.  The  fatal  division  of  labor  by  which  the 
country  produces  human  beings  for  the  city  to  con- 
sume does  not  obtain,  now  that  modern  sanitation 
has  made  city  life  almost  as  conducive  to  health  and 
longevity  as  country  life.  The  city  is,  indeed,  an 
economic  phenomenon  of  the  first  magnitude,  sort- 
ing and  grading  the  little  differentiated  stream  of 
human  beings  attracted  to  it  by  its  wealth  of  oppor- 
tunities. But,  anthropologically,  it  is  by  no  means 
the  crucible,  the  Bessemer  converter,  Ammon  as- 
sumes it  to  be. 

"Social  Evolution"  is  a  warning  to  those  over 
eager  to  spell  out  in  flaming  letters  the  message  of 
science  before  the  returns  have  been  verified.  Hav- 
333 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ing  ever  before  his  eyes  the  fear  of  Weismann's  pan- 
mixia, Mr.  Kidd  proclaims  that  only  by  rivalry  and 
the  selection  and  accumulation  of  desirable  congen- 
ital variations  can  the  human  race  continue  to  pro- 
gress or  even  escape  retrogression.  He  forthwith 
proceeds  to  identify  economic  competition  with  the 
struggle  for  existence,  success  with  the  survival  of 
the  fittest,  the  poverty  and  suffering  of  the  masses 
with  the  elimination  of  the  unfit.  The  power  that 
drives  this  selective  apparatus  is  assumed  to  be  the 
pressure  of  population  upon  subsistence.  But  Kidd 
goes  on  to  state  that  the  rivalry  of  life  which  condi- 
tions race  progress  is  nowhere  so  strenuous  and  se- 
vere as  with  the  progressive  peoples.  How  this  can 
be,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  it  is  just  these  peoples 
that  have  learned  to  multiply  at  a  human  rather 
than  an  animal  rate  of  speed,  he  does  not  explain. 

If  it  is  the  food  quest  that  "makes  the  world  go 
round,"  the  "rivalry  of  life"  ought  to  be  more  stress- 
ful in  Java  or  India  than  in  France  or  the  United 
States ;  but  plainly  it  is  not.  The  lupine  theory  of 
progress,  therefore,  breaks  down.  The  secret  of 
this  undeniable  keying  up  of  competition  among  the 
peoples  most  exempt  from  over-population  and  hun- 
ger will  never  be  supplied  by  biological  thinkers  like 
Kidd.  It  must  be  sought  of  social  psychologists  like 
Tarde  and  Dumont,  Veblen  and  Gurewitsch,  who 
have  formulated  the  laws  that  govern  the  expansion 
of  human  wants,  and  have  shown  how,  in  societies 
of  a  certain  type,  all  classes  are  inflamed  with  new 
desires  from  the  example  of  the  classes  above  them, 
334 


^ 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

and  are  spurred  by  social  ambition  to  put  forth  their 
utmost  efforts. 

With  Kidd's  opinion  of  the  modern  tendency  to 
equalize  opportunities,  it  is  instructive  to  compare 
that  of  Haycraft.  Kidd  hails  it  as  a  perfecting  of 
the  selective  process,  whereby  the  members  of  the 
"disinherited"  classes  are  admitted  to  the  rivalry  of 
life  on  equal  terms  with  the  rest.  Haycraft  grants 
him  that  the  democratic  regime  of  equal  chances  for 
all  is  a  success  from  the  standpoint  of  social  effici- 
ency. Universal  competition  does,  in  fact,  get  the 
round  peg  into  the  round  hole,  the  best  man  into  the 
best  post,  the  second-best  man  into  the  second-best 
post,  and  so  on.  But  the  race  loses.  The  "social 
capillarity"  that  smooths  the  way  upward  for  the 
capables  lessens  their  fecundity.  They  spend  more 
of  their  lives  in  preparing  for  their  work  and  in  win- 
ning a  foothold.  They  marry  later  and  their  brides 
are  three  or  four  years  older  than  the  brides  of 
miners  or  operatives.  Even  if  they  rear  the  same 
number  of  children,  the  interval  between  the  genera- 
tions is  longer,  and  there  will  be  fewer  generations  in 
a  given  period.  The  "aristocracy  of  achievement" 
that  elbows  out  the  old  hereditary  aristocracy  tends, 
therefore,  to  extinction.  Those  who  rise  are  less 
prolific  than  those  left  behind.  Under  the  modern 
conditions  of  success  it  would  seem  that  the  lower 
classes,  ever  more  thoroughly  drained  of  their  fittest 
individuals,  must  eventually  swamp  the  upper 
classes,  composed  of  successful  combatants  in  the 
battle  of  life.     The  broad,  fecund,  self-perpetuating 

335 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

layer  of  the  population  will  become  impoverished, 
like  a  worn-out  tobacco  field  or  a  fish  pond  too  close- 
ly seined. 

Under  the  influence  of  the  Darwinists,  Seeck,  the 
latest  historian  of  the  Lower  Empire,  undertakes  to 
account  for  the  world-historic  decadence  of  ancient 
society  by  social  mis-selection.  The  decay  of  an- 
cient Greece,  marked  by  a  lamentable  lowering  of 
ability  in  every  department  of  culture,  he  connects 
with  the  ferocious  party  struggles  between  aristo- 
crats and  democrats.  In  these  struggles,  at  each 
turn  of  fortune's  wheel  all  persons  of  distinction 
belonging  to  the  defeated  party  were  banished  or 
slaughtered.  Thus,  we  read  of  seven  hundred  fami- 
lies being  exiled  at  one  time  from  Athens,  one  thou- 
sand leading  citizens  executed  at  Mitylene,  four 
thousand  at  Gela.  In  generations  of  such  savage 
work  the  contending  factions  contrived  to  drain 
Greece  of  her  best  blood,  and  left  to  her  insignificant 
and  mediocre  families  an  inglorious  and  decadent 
future. 

In  like  manner  Seeck  connects  the  decline  of  abil- 
ity among  the  Romans,  and  especially  the  notable 
decline  in  their  courage  and  force  of  character,  with 
the  wholesale  massacres  of  the  Social  Wars.  Ma- 
rius  and  Cinna  murder  the  aristocrats  and  their  per- 
sonal enemies  by  thousands,  Sulla  extirpates  the 
democrats  with  equal  ferocity,  and  the  remaining 
noble  blood  is  spilled  under  the  proscriptions  of  the 
triumvirs.  All  the  bold  were  slain;  only  cowards 
remained  alive,  and  from  their  progeny  issued  the 
336 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

timid,  characterless  generations  of  the  Lower  Em- 
pire, that  bewailed  the  passing  of  the  old  greatness 
and  idly  let  the  barbarians  smash  in  upon  them.      .   , 

The  most  comprehensive  and  thorough  examina- 
tion of  social  selections  thus  far  made  is  the*  work 
of  Lapouge,  who  has  not  only  surveyed  the  results 
of  his  predecessors,  but  has  added  many  contribu- 
tions of  his  own.  All  the  alterations  of  the  human 
breed  that  arise  from  social  causes  he  groups  under 
the  six  heads  of  military,  political,  religious,  moral, 
legal,  and  economic  selection. 

Once  war  selected  well,  and  on  the  whole  assured 
the  survival  of  the  bravest,  strongest,  and  most 
adroit.  In  civilized  populations,  however,  war  takes 
the  pick,  and  leaves  the  unfit  to  stay  at  home  and 
propagate.  The  poor  quality  of  the  recruits  that 
presented  themselves  in  France  in  1891  and  in  Ger- 
many in  1892  is  due  largely  to  the  fact  that  they 
were  begotten  during  the  Franco-Prussian  war, 
when  the  elite  were  in  the  field.  In  these  days  of 
machine  guns,  moreover,  the  battle  no  longer  spares 
prowess,  as  it  did  in  the  days  of  spear  or  sword  war, 
but  mows  men  down  indiscriminately. 

Political  selection  is  exemplified  in  the  Revolution- 
ary struggles,  where  the  great  men  of  France 
guillotined  one  another  in  turn,  and  only  mediocrity 
throve.  In  hardly  any  epoch  has  political  contest 
been  free  from  the  shedding  of  blood ;  and  even  to- 
day the  victors,  while  they  respect  the  lives,  do 
not  spare  the  livelihoods,  of  their  office-holding  oppo- 
nents. 

22  z^7 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

An  example  of  moral  selection  is  our  exacting 
standard  of  decency,  which  by  insisting  on  the  com- 
plete covering  up  of  the  body  reduces  cutaneous 
respiration,  and  results  either  in  a  slow  asphyxiation 
or  in  throwing  more  work  upon  the  lungs.  In 
Oceania,  says  Lapouge,  tuberculosis  and  evangel- 
ization have  advanced  hand  in  hand.  As  the  mis- 
sionary imposes  clothes  on  his  converts,  they  begin 
to  fall  a  prey  to  consumption,  so  that,  as  an  English 
statesman  declared  in  Parliament,  the  most  rapid 
and  effective  means  of  clearing  a  Pacific  island  for 
colonization  is  not  the  demijohn  or  the  rifle,  but  .the 
gospel ! 

The  cult  of  charity  has  worked  regressively,  keep- 
ing alive  the  unfit,  assisting  them  to  rear  large  fami- 
lies of  their  ijk,  and  even  forming  monstrous  varie- 
ties of  our  species,  such  as  the  horrible  cretins  of  the 
Alpine  valleys. 

Legal  selection  is  instanced  by  punishment,  which 
has  been  a  selective  agent  of  no  mean  order  when 
we  remember  that  the  little  England  of  Elizabeth 
hung  eight  hundred  malefactors  a  year.  Indeed, 
some  have  attributed  the  unusually  low  criminality" 
of  the  British  population  to  this  ferocious  purging. 
To-day,  however,  punishment  is  so  little  eliminative 
that  many  advocate  the  sterilization  of  all  congenital 
criminals  as  the  only  means  of  thinning  out  the  bad 
breeds. 

The  most  decisive  influence  of  law  is,  however, 
in  the  matter  of  marriage.  The  institution  of  po- 
lygamy is  a,  means  of  favorable  selection,  because 
338 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

it  abstracts  women  from  the  inferior,  and  multiplies^ 
the  descendants  of  the  successful  and  well-to-do, 
who  are  able  to  support  an  establishment  of  several 
wives.  In  its  natural  form  it  handicaps  th^  scrubs 
in  favor  of  the  thoroughbreds.  In  the  approaching 
competition  of  Occidentals  and  Orientals,  says  La- 
pouge,  the  former,  who  limit  the  superior  man  to 
one  wife,  will  carry  a  heavy  handicap. 

In  viewing  the  selective  workings  of  economic  in- 
stitutions, Lapouge  shows  himself  as  radical  as  Am- 
mon  is  conservative.  The  struggle  for  wealth  does 
not  bring  to  the  top  the  intellectual  aristocracyi 
The  emulative  standards  of  plutocratic  expenditure 
infect  all  classes  save  the  poor,  and  cut  down  the 
size  of  the  family.  Inherited  wealth  shields  its  pos- 
sessors from  selective  stress,  and  permits  retrogres- 
sion. The  plutocracy  of  to-day  is  far,  very  far,  he 
thinks,  from  favoring  the  multiplication  of  the  best. 

It  would  take  long  to  name  the  faces  that  have 
turned  towards  this  fascinating  question  of  social 
selections.  We  have  Dugdale  and .  McCulloch  and 
Warner,  with  their  studies  of  maleficent  charity; 
Reid,  who  argues  that  the  intemperate  peoples  are 
the  ones  that  have  not  undergone  alcoholic  selection ; 
Ripley,  who  has  amassed  the  facts  bearing  on  cli- 
matic selection,  and  has  shown  the  influence  of 
"consciousness  of  kind"  in  controlling  matrimonial 
choice ;  Pearson,  who  assesses  the  selective  value  of 
economic  competition ;  an4  Jordan,  who  has  elo- 
quently compared  war  and  peace  in^their  effect  on 
the  quality  of  the  race 

339 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

The  future,  no  doubt,  belongs  to  the  doctrine  of 
selection.  But,  if  the  selectionists  are  to  make  head- 
way, there  must  be  a  fuller  recognition  of  social  fac- 
tors. The  master  error  of  the  social  Darwinists  is 
to  see  in  the  economic  struggle  a  twin  to  the  "strug- 
gle for  existence"  that  plays  so  fateful  a  part  in  the 
modification  of  species.  The  fact  is,  the  scramble 
for  money  or  place,  though  it  be  as  desperate  as  the 
fight  of  clawed  beasts,  has  ceased  to  be  a  clear  case 
of  life  or  death.  Only  on  the  bottom  steps  of  the 
social  staircase  do  men  compete  from  hunger. 
Above  them  men  work  themselves  into  the  mad- 
house or  the  grave,  not  for  bread,  but  for  jam  on  the 
bread.  Starvation  takes  ever  thinner  shavings  from 
the  under  side  of  society,  while  overfeeding  is  be- 
ginning to  plane  down  the  upper  side.  Beyond  six 
hundred  dollars  a  year,  it  is  doubtful  if  pecuniary 
success  has  much  influence  on  survival.  The  well- 
to-do,  with  all  their  high-priced  doctors  and  trips  to 
Florida,  diminish  very  little  their  natural  mortality 
rate. 

What  a  difference  between  the  gaining  or  losing 
a  rung  in  the  climb  for  comfort,  and  the  situation 
Darwin  found  among  animals  and  plants,  where  "a 
grain  in  the  balance  will  determine  which  individual 
shall  live  and  which  die" !  With  animal  life,  where 
''of  the  many  individuals  of  any  species  which  are 
periodically  born  but  a  small  number  can  survive," 
compare  a  modern  society  where  half  of  the  males 
that  are  born  finish  their  forty-seventh  year,  and 
where  those  who  work  themselves  to  death  to  get  the 
340 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

vanities  of  life  probably  outnumber  those  who  perish 
from  lack  of  its  necessaries. 

If  economic  gradation  does  not  register  itself 
clearly  in  death-rates,  still  less  can  we  read  it  in  tl\e 
birth-rates.  The  ^'rivalry  of  life,"  if  it  is  not  a 
mere  struggle  to  survive,  is  certainly  not  a  struggle 
to  leave  offspring.  The  victors  could  multiply,  but 
they  choose  to  take  out  their  success  in  upholstery 
rather  than  in  more  babies.  The  slums,  on  the  other 
hand,  are  alive  with  infants,  because  the  factory  de- 
mand for  child  labor  makes  children  an  asset  rather 
than  a  burden.  Hence  the  well-to-do  increase  less 
rapidly  than  the  poor.  The  professional,  mercan- 
tile, and  higher  artisan  classes  have  smaller  families 
than  the  workingmen ;  and  the  fact  that  they  rear  a 
larger  percentage  of  their  children  to  maturity  does 
not  always  compensate  for  their  lower  marriage-rate 
and  birth-rate.  Moreover,  this  saving  of  infants  by 
better  care  amounts,  in  many  cases,  to  keeping  alive 
the  less  fit. 

The  fact  is,  in  the  higher  societies  the  "battle  of 
life"  is  now  of  the  Red  Cross  kind,  and  is  little  se- 
lective. It  is  hardly  a  struggle  to  exist,  still  less  a 
struggle  to  reproduce,  but  chiefly  a  struggle  to  rise ; 
and  the  winners  are  liable  to  be  out-multiplied  by 
the  losers,  and  displaced  by  their  progeny.  At  best, 
the  net  result  of  it  all  is  not  "the  survival  of  the 
fittest,"  but  the  promotion  of  the  capable.  At  worst, 
the  outcome  is  a  partial  suspension  of  natural  selec- 
tion among  the  hereditarily  rich. 

For  all  the  naturalists  may  say,  the  food  quest, 
341 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

prime  agent  of  selection  among  the  beasts,  is  no 
longer  the  chief  winnower  of  men.  Clothes,  stoves, 
cookery,  firearms,  and  medicaments  have,  moreover, 
withdrawn  us  from  some  of  the  stresses  that  sifted 
the  cave-men.  But  still  Nature  finds  ways  of  get- 
ting her  flawed  pots  to  the  shard-heap.  Climate, 
that  screens  immigrants  so  mercilessly,  continues  to 
drop  through  the  mesh  a  serious  fraction  of  each 
generation.  Microbes  lay  low  the  non-resistant 
stocks.  The  arrows  of  many  diseases — ^though  not 
all — fly  selectively,  striking  down  the  inferior  in 
physique.  The  accidents  of  life  and  the  hazards  of 
occupations  snatch  away  the  reckless  and  thought- 
less. Drink  and  vice  purge  from  the  ranks  those 
fierce  of  appetite  and  weak  of  will.  Diet,  regimen, 
personal  habits,  are  so  many  means  of  casting  out 
the  stupid  and  imprudent. 

The  social  selections  are  by  no  means  of  a  stripe 
with  these  natural  selections.  Nature  eliminates  the 
unfit;  society  eliminates  the  misfit.  Nature  rejects 
the  defective ;  society  preserves  them,  but  burns  the 
heretic  and  hangs  the  criminal.  For  the  most  part, 
though,  the  social  selections  do  not  eliminate  any- 
body. They  determine  not  who  shall  live,  but  who 
shall  propagate  the  next  generation.  They  select 
not  survivors,  but  parents.  Most  institutions  and 
policies  that  sift  human  beings  do  so  by  influencing 
one  or  more  of  the  following  factors :  (a)  the  in- 
clination to  marriage;  (b)  the  amount  of  marriage, 
—polygamy,  monogamy,  etc.;  (c)  the  age  of  mar- 
riage; (d)  the  will  to  have  children;  (e)  the  ability 
342 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

to  rear  children  to  maturity.  Social  selections  thus 
discriminate  between  men  on  the  basis  of  their  voli- 
tions, whereas  Nature  discriminates  for  the  most 
part  on  the  basis  of  their  bodily  traits  or  their  in- 
stincts. 

The  theory  of  social  selections  will  doubtless 
throw  fresh  light  on  the  causes  of  the  decadence  of 
nations.  Under  the  spell  of  the  social  organism  an- 
alogy, the  idea  long  prevailed  that  a  society,  like  a 
human  being,  has  its  youth,  maturity,  old  age,  and 
death.  But  on  further  reflection  it  was  seen  that  the 
hereditary  necessity  that  impels  the  individual  along 
the  fatal  path  to  dissolution  arises  from  a  special 
cause.  Weismann  showed  that  death  strikes  only 
multicellular  organisms,  and  that  the  normal  term  of 
life  for  each  species  is  fixed  by  natural  selection  op- 
erating upon  innumerable  generations.  Societies, 
however,  are  not  organisms,  and  do  not  lie  under  the 
sceptre  of  heredity.  The  size  and  term  of  life  of 
each  society  depend  upon  present  circumstances, 
not  upon  the  conditions  to  which  ancestral  societies 
were  exposed.  It  may  perish  under  the  heel  of  in- 
vading barbarians  or  in  the  throes  of  civil  strife ;  but 
its  end  is  a  catastrophe,  never  a,  natural  death. 

Now,  however,  with  the  recognition  of  social  se- 
lections, the  theory  of  national  afternoons  has  been 
exhumed  and  set  on  its  feet.  Dimly  we  begin  to 
discern  why  the  career  of  a  people  is  a  parabola, 
why  "every  stone  thrown  must  fall."  As  a  society 
mounts  to  greatness,  a  growing  civil,  military,  and 
343 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ecclesiastical  organization  concentrates  talent  and 
creates  brilliant  centres  of  energy,  attracting  the 
capable,  as  lighthouses  fatally  attract  birds.  In 
camps,  courts,  cloisters,  universities,  and  capitals  the 
elite  become  incandescent,  take  fire,  and  feed  the 
flame  of  civilization. 

But  meanwhile  certain  searching  primitive  tests 
of  manhood  have  been  done  away  with,  survival  and 
reproduction  have  been  turned  askew  by  artificial 
arrangements,    and    motives    have    been    unloosed 
which  blunt  the  race-preserving  instincts  of  the  fit- 
test.   The  flower  of  the  race  is  wasted  in  war,  or* 
trampled  under  in  civil  contests,  or  drawn  to  centres ' 
of  intense  civilization,  where,  a  prey  to  wants  and' 
ambitions  that  interfere  with  breeding,  it  becomes' 
glorious,  but  sterile,   fecund  in  deeds,  ideas,  and' 
graces,  but  not  in  children.     When  in  time  the  eti- 
genic  capital  is  used  up,  we  have  a  people  no  longer 
capable  of  matching  the  achievements  of  their  sires.  . 
The  very  institutions  that  make  a  people  great  and  , 
happy  may  bring  in  at  last  a  race  decadence  which* 
presently  announces  itself  in  social  decline. 

There  is  a  way  pointed  out  by  Dumont  by  which 
the  historic  triumphs  of  vigorous  races  are  undone. 
As  the  fertile  parts  of  a  country  like  France  are 
stricken  with  sterility  under  the  fever  of  social  ambi- 
tion, currents  of  migration  set  up  from  the  poor  en- 
vironments, the  uplands  and  mountains.  But  these 
are  inhabited  by  the  beaten  people  driven  aforetime 
from  desirable  areas  by  the  invaders.  The  overflow 
from  these  poverty-stricken  but  fecund  regions 
344 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

silently  fills  the  gaps  in  the  lowlands  left  by  the  ex- 
tinction of  the  superior  stocks.  In  this  way  the  con- 
quered avenge  themselves,  the  progressive  element 
is  swamped,  and  the  nation  runs  down  like  a  clock 
with  no  one  to  wind  it. 

Perhaps  the  classic  picture  of  over-ripe  nations 
dropping  to  pieces  from  sheer  rottenness  is  fanciful. 
Perhaps  every  Golden  Age  does  not  need  to  be  paid 
for  with  a  Silver  Age.  But  the  selectionists  are  be- 
ginning to  divine  how  such  might  be  the  case.  The 
possibility  of  accounting  in  this  fashion  for  the  pass- 
ing of  nations  certainly  lends  a  new  interest  to  the 
records  of  the  past  and  a  fresh  zeal  to  the  philosophic 
historian. 

It  is  likely  that  mere  qualitative  reasoning  on 
selection  has  reached  its  zenith.  Ingenious  and  fer- 
tile minds  have  gotten  out  of  the  idea  about  all  there 
is  in  it  as  an  easy  solvent  of  hard  problems.  The 
next  pressing  task  is  not  to  hunt  for  new  selective 
agencies,  but  to  measure  the  relative  importance  of 
those  already  recognized, — ^to  determine  which  are 
momentous  and  which  trivial.  The  hour  has  struck 
to  make  variation  and  selection  a  branch  of  quantita- 
tive science,  to  put  mathematico-statistical  logic  in 
place  of  the  prevailing  loose  qualitative  reasoning. 
We  need  significant  facts, — above  all  the  counting 
of  numerous  similar  facts, — in  order  to  advance  fur- 
ther in  the  appraisal  of  social  institutions.  There  is 
coming  a  new  Darwin,  who  will  spend  half  a  lifetime 
in  patiently  collecting  all  facts  that  throw  light  on 
the  si  f tings  and  screenings  of  human  beings  by  social 
345 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

agencies.  He  will  ransack  history,  engulf  diction- 
aries of  biography,  cross-examine  medical  men,  pry 
into  family  life,  and  digest  the  vital  statistics  of  the 
globe  in  order  to  establish  his  facts.  Then  he  will 
isolate  and  test  one  after  another  every  policy  and  in- 
stitution, every  type  of  family,  inheritance,  property, 
religion,  morals,  charity,  warfare,  education,  and 
social  organization.  And  his  calm  expose  of  its 
bearing  on  the  relative  increase  of  breeds  and  stocks 
will  constitute  either  its  supreme  vindication  or  its 
final  damnation,  its  acquittal  or  its  sentence  in  the 
court  of  last  resort. 

In  the  course  of  two  centuries,  men  have  passed 
from  standard  to  standard  in  judging  an  institution. 
Is  it  ordained  of  God?  Does  it  strengthen  the 
State?  Does  it  accord  with  human  rights?  Does 
it  promote  the  increase  of  wealth  ?  Does  it  conduce 
to  the  social  welfare?  To  these  successive  stand- 
ards, theological,  political,  ethical,  economic,  socio- 
logical, is  added  now  the  biological  query.  Does  it 
favor  the  best  breeds?  This,  as  it  heeds  all  the  con- 
sequences of  an  institution,  even  the  remotest,  will 
constitute  the  final  standard. 

This  mete-wand,  by  enabling  us  to  compare  the 
chief  features  of  our  own  development  with  the 
corresponding  features  of  other  societies  and  times, 
affords  a  new  and  decisive  test  of  the  worth  of  social 
conditions  and  stages  of  culture.  It  yields  a  fresh 
appraisal  of  the  cityward  movement,  of  machine  in- 
dustry, of  the  emancipation  of  women,  of  the  ascend- 
ency of  mode  imitation  over  custom  imitation.  The 
346 


RECENT   TENDENCIES 

formation  of  a  leisure  class,  the  growth  of  luxury, 
the  spread  of  a  feverish  ambition  into  ever  wider 
circles,  the  multiplication  in  the  middle  class  of 
wants  that  interfere  with  the  multiplication  of  hu- 
man beings,  the  sterilizing  of  the  intellectual  elite  by 
exacting  standards  of  expenditure,  the  accenting  of 
pecuniary  considerations  in  matrimonial  choice,  the 
delaying  of  marriage  among  working-class  girls  by 
the  opportunities  of  factory  labor,  the  undermining 
of  the  family  ideal  by  individualism, — all  these  phe- 
nomena that  our  double-quick  social  progress  draws 
in  its  wake  call  for  the  yard  stick  of  the  selectionist. 

Still  more  momentous  is  his  revaluing  of  all  social 
measures,  policies,  and  arrangements.  In  this  court 
of  final  appeal  every  ordinance,  from  the  law  of  suc- 
cession to  the  regulation  of  the  liquor  traffic ;  every 
institution,  from  slavery  to  primogeniture;  every 
custom,  from  the  marriage  portion  to  coeducation; 
every  social  practice,  from  child  marriage  to  the 
higher  education  of  women ;  every  tribunal  from  the 
Inquisition  to  the  Hague  Conference;  every  his- 
torical movement  from  the  Crusades  to  the  expulsion 
of  the  Moors, — must  stand  or  fall  by  the  breed  of 
human  being  it  favors. 

When  you  know  what  kind  of  people  multiply 
most  under  it,  you  know  whether  it  is  good  or  bad ; 
for  back  of  social  questions  lies  the  human  question. 
With  strong,  wise,  good  men,  any  type  of  institution 
will  do,  because  all  are  superfluous.  Whereas  a 
population  of  knaves,  fools,  and  weaklings  will  turn 
heaven  itself  into  an  Inferno.  Any  practice  or  ar- 
347 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

rangement  that  sifts  badly,  keeping  the  chaff  instead 
of  the  grain,  catching  the  silt  and  rejecting  the  parti- 
cles of  gold,  must  be  given  up,  be  it  never  so  hal- 
lowed. 

On  this  coming  day  of  judgment  the  granite  of 
authority  will  melt  like  snow,  the  mortar  of  logic 
will  turn  to  dust,  "eternal"  principles  will  vanish  like 
the  morning  mist.  For,  if  society  englobes  genera- 
tions yet  to  be,  no  institution  can  come  off  scathless 
that  hinders  the  well-endowed  from  outbreeding  the 
ill-constituted  and  filling  the  earth. 

This  test  may  do  much  to  end  debate  and  unify 
opinion  on  social  questions.  Into  the  profitless  dis- 
cussion of  measures  from  the  standpoint  of  particu- 
lar interests  the  sociologist  has  thrown  the  question, 
"Is  it  best  for  society  as  a  whole?"  But  society  is  a 
vague  entity,  and  each  disputant  deems  his  own  class 
the  backbone  of  society.  The  selectionist  in  turn 
seeks  to  lift  the  plane  of  discussion  with  the  question, 
"Will  it  tend  to  the  preponderance  of  the  fittest?" 
For  cases  where  it  can  be  applied,  perhaps  his  touch- 
stone will  be  adopted  sooner  than  that  of  the  so- 
ciologist. Most  of  us  are  hazy  as  to  the  social  wel- 
fare; but  every  one  knows  and  prefers  the  hale  to 
the  sickly,  the  wise  to  the  foolish,  the  noble  to  the 
base. 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

I 

GuMPLOwTcz.    Der  Rassenkampf,  1883. 

Von  Jhering.    Der  Zweck  im  Recht.    2  vols.     1884-86. 

348 


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SiMMEL.    Ueber 'sociale  Differenzierung,    1890. 

The  Persistence  of  Groups.     American  Journal  of  So- 
ciology, March,  May,  July,  1898. 
Tarde.     Les  lois  d'imitation.     1890  and  1895.     Trans.     The 
Laws  of  Imitations,  1903. 
La  logique  sociale.     1895. 
L'opposition  universelle.     1897. 
Les  lois  sociales.     1898.    Trans.  Social  Laws.     1S99. 
DuRKHEiM.    De  la  division  du  travail  social.     1893. 
Le     Bon.      Psychologic     des     foules.      1895.      Trans.  The 

Crowd.     1896. 
GiDDiNGS.     Principles  of  Sociology.     1896. 

Inductive  Sociology.     1901. 
Baldwin.     Social  and  Ethical  Interpretations  in  Mental  De- 
velopment.    1897. 
Simons.     Social  Assimilation.    American   Journal   of   So- 
ciology, May,  1901,  to  January,  1902. 
Ross.    Social  Control.    1901. 

II 

GuMPLOWicz.   Grundriss  der  Sociologie.    1885.   Trans.  Out- 
lines of  Sociology.     1899. 
Sociologie  und  Politik,     1892. 
Die  sociologische  Staatsidee.     1892. 
LoRiA.    Les  bases  economiques  de  la  constitution  sociale. 
1893.    Developed  from  the  Italian  edition  of  1886. 
Trans.  The  Economic  Foundation  of  Society.     1S99. 
Problemes  sociaux  contemporains.     1897. 
Novicow.    Les  luttes  entre  societes  humaines.     1893. 
Ratzenhofer.    Wesen    und    Zweck    der    Politik.    3    vols 
1893. 
Die  sociologische  Erkenntniss.     1898. 
Vaccaro.     Les   bases  sociologiques   du    droit   et  de  Tetat 

1898.     First  Italian  edition,  1893. 
Worms.     Organisme  et  societe.     1896. 
SoMBART.    Der  Sozialismus.     1896.    Trans.  Socialism,  1898. 

349 


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Pearson.    National  Life  from  the  Standpoint  of  Science. 
1901. 

Ill 

Mallock.    Aristocracy  and  Evolution.     1897. 

Thomas.     On  a  Difference  in  the  Metabolism  of  the  Sexes. 

The    Relation    of    Sex    to    Primitive    Social    Control. 
American  Journal  of  Sociology,  July,  1897;  May, 
1898. 
Mason.    Woman's  Share  in  Primitive  Culture.     1904. 
Ferrero.    L'  Europa  Giovane.     1897. 
Ammon.    Anthropologische  Untersuchungen.     1890. 

Die  naturliche  Auslese  beim  Menschen.     1893. 
Lapouge.    L'Aryen.     1900. 
Closson.    The   Hierarchy  of  European  Races.    American 

Journal  of  Sociology,  November,  1897. 
Lombroso.    The  Man  of  Genius.     1891.     From  the  Italian. 
Nordau.    Entartung.     1892.    Trans.  Degeneration.     1895. 
Adams.     The  Law  of  Civilization  and  Decay.     1895. 
Patten.    The  Development  of  English  Thought.     1899. 
GiDDiNGS.    Inductive  Sociology.     1901. 
Ratzenhofer.    Die  sociologische  Erkenntniss.     1898. 

IV 

ViGNES.    La  science  sociale.    2  vols.     1898. 

Demolins.     a  quoi  tient  la  superiorite  des  Anglo-Saxons.-* 

1897.    Trans.  Anglo-Saxon  Superiority.     1898. 
Les    FranQais    d'aujourd'hui.     Les    types    sociaux    du 

Midi  et  du  Centre,  1898. 
Comment  la  route  cree  le  type  social.     Les  routes  de 

I'antiquite.     1901. 
Matteuzi.     Les  facteurs  de  revolution  des  peuples.     1900. 
Ripley.    The  Races  of  Europe.     1899. 
Leroy-Beaulieu.     Israel    chez    les    nations.     1893.    Trans. 

Israel  among  the  Nations.     1895. 
Schreiner.     Stray  Thoughts  on  South  Africa.     Fortnightly 

Review.    July,  1896. 

350 


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Veblen.     The  Theory  of  the  Leisure  Class.     1899. 

Industrial   and   Pecuniary  Employments.     Publications 
of  American  Economic  Association,  February,  1901. 
Stetson.    Women  and  Economics.    1899. 
Turner.    The   Significance   of  the  Frontier  in   American 
History.    American  Historical  Association,  1893. 
The  Problem  of  the  West.    Atlantic  Monthly,  Septem- 
ber, 1896. 


Galton.    Hereditary  Genius.    1869. 

On  the  Improvement  of  the  Human  Breed  under  the 
Existing  Conditions  of  Law  and  Sentiment.  Popu- 
lar Science  Monthly,  January,  1902. 

Darwin.    The  Descent  of  Man.    1871. 

Bagehot.     Physics  and  Politics.     1871. 

Bell.  Memoir  upon  the  Formation  of  a  Deaf  Variety  of 
the  Human  Race.  National  Academy  of  Sciences. 
1884. 

De  Candolle.  Histoire  des  sciences  et  des  savants  depuis 
deux  siecles.  "Selection  dans  I'espece  humaine." 
1884. 

Nietzsche.  Jenseits  von  Gut  und  Bose.  Chaps,  iii.,  v., 
and  ix.     1885. 

DuGDALE.    The  Jukes.     i88a 

Huxley.  Collected  Essays,  Vol.  IX.  "The  Struggle  for 
Existence."     1888. 

Hansen.    Die  drei  Bevolkerungsstufen.    1889. 

Dumont.    Depopulation  et  civilisation.    1890. 
y  Ritchie.    Darwinism  and  Politics.     1891. 

Ammon.    Die  natiirliche  Auslese  beim  Menschen.     1893. 
Die  Gesellschaftsordnung  und  ihre  natiirlichen  Grund- 
lagen.     1895. 

Le  Bon.     Les  lois  psychologiques  de  revolution  des  peuples. 
^  1894.    Trans.    The  Psychological  Laws  of  the  Evo- 

lution of  Peoples. 
/KiDD.    Social  Evolution.     1894. 

351 


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Warner.  American  Charities.  "Charity  in  Human  Selec- 
tion."    1894. 

Haycraft.    Darwinism  and  Race  Progress.     1895. 

Seeck.  Geschichte  des  Untergangs  der  antiken  Welt.  Vol. 
I.     1895. 

Lapouge.    Les  selections  sociales.     1896. 

Fairbanks.  An  Introduction  to  Sociology.  "Natural  Se- 
lection in  Human  Society."     1896. 

KuczYNSKi.    Der  Zug  nach  der  Stadt.     1897. 

Pearson.    The  Chances  of  Death.    Vol.  I.    1897. 

Loria.  Problemes  sociaux  contemporains.  "Le  Darwin- 
isme  social."     1897. 

Reid.    The  Present  Evolution  of  Man.     1898. 

Jordan.    The  Blood  of  the  Nation.    1902. 


35s» 


X 

THE  CAUSES  OF  RACE  SUPERIORITY^ 

The  superiorities  that,  at  a  given  time,  one  people 
may  display  over  other  peoples,  are  not  necessarily 
racial.  Physical  inferiorities  that  disappear  as  the 
peoples  are  equalized  in  diet  and  dwelling;  mental 
inferiorities  that  disappear  when  the  peoples  are 
levelled  up  in  respect  to  culture  and  means  of  educa- 
tion, are  due  not  to  race  but  to  condition,  not  to 
blood  but  to  surroundings.  In  accounting  for  dis- 
parities among  peoples  there  are,  in  fact,  two  oppo- 
site errors  into  which  we  may  fall.  There  is  the 
equality  fallacy  inherited  from  the  earlier  thought 
of  the  last  century,  which  belittles  race  differences 
and  has  a  robust  faith  in  the  power  of  intercourse 
and  school  instruction  to  lift  up  a  backward  folk 
to  the  level  of*  the  best.  Then  there  is  the  counter 
fallacy,  grown  up  since  Darwin,  which  exaggerates 
the  race  factor  and  regards  the  actual  differences  of 
peoples  as  hereditary  and  fixed. 

Just  now  the  latter  error  is,  perhaps,  the  more 
besetting.  At  a  time  when  race  is  the  watchword 
of  the  vulgar  and  when  sciolists  are  pinning  their 
faith  to  breed,  we  of  all  men  ought  to  beware  of  it. 

*  The  Annual  Address  before  the  American  Academy  of 
Political  and  Social  Science,  Philadelphia,  April  12,  1901. 

23  353 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

We  Americans  who  have  so  often  seen  the  children 
of  underfed,  stunted,  scrub  immigrants  match  the 
native  American  in  brain  and  brawn,  in  wit  and  grit, 
ought  to  realize  how  much  the  superior  effectiveness 
of  the  latter  is  due  to  social  conditions.  Keleti.  from 
his  investigations  in  Hungary,  has  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  in  most  of  the  communes  there  the  peo- 
ple have  less  to  eat  than  is  necessary  to  live  and  work, 
the  result  being  alcoholism,  weakness,  disease  and 
early  death.  Atwater,  on  the  other  hand,  has  found 
that  the  average  wage-worker  in  New  England  con- 
sumes more  food  than  health  requires.  What  a  host 
of  consequences  issue  from  this  one  primary  con- 
trast ! 

A  generation  ago,  in  the  first  enthusiasm  over  the 
marvels  of  heredity,  we  were  taught  that  one  race  is 
monotheistic,  another  has  an  affinity  for  polytheism. 
One  race  is  temperamentally  aristocratic,  while  an- 
other is  by  instinct  democratic.  One  race  is  inno- 
vating and  radical,  another  is  by  nature  conservative. 
But  it  is  impossible  to  characterize  races  in  respect 
to  such  large  complex  traits.  A  keener  analysis 
connects  these  great  historical  contrasts  with  a  num- 
ber of  slight  specific  differences  in  body  or  tempera- 
ment. For  example,  four  diverse  traits  of  the  great- 
est social  importance,  namely,  progressiveness,  the 
spirit  of  adventure,  migrancy  and  the  disposition  to 
flock  to  cities,  can  be  traced  to  a  courageous  confi- 
dence in  the  unknown  coupled  with  the  high  physical 
tone  that  calls  for  action.  Similarly,  if  we  may  be- 
354 


THE   CAUSES    OF  RACE   SUPERIORITY 

lieve  Signer  Ferrero/  of  two  equally  gifted  races  the 
one  that  is  the  less  sensual  will  be  inferior  in  aesthetic    / 
output,  less  apt  to  cross  with  lower  types,  more  loyal    " 
to  the  idea  of  duty,  better  adapted  to  monotonous 
factory  labor,  and  more  inclined  to  the  Protestant 
form  of  religion.     It  is  only  by  establishing  fixed,^ 
specific  differences  of  this  kind  that  we  can  hope  to 
explain  those  grand  race  contrasts  that  enchant  the 
historian.^ 

^  "L'Europa  Giovane." 

^  The  author  ventured  a  later  word  on  this  subject  in  an 
address  delivered  at  the  International  Congress  of  Arts  and 
Sciences,  St.  Louis,  1904. 

"The  broad  moral  contrasts  jetween  German,  Turk  and 
Gipsy  must  be  due  to  Race  or  to  Environment,  physical  and 
"social.  Now,  how  much  weight  ought  we  to  assign  to  the 
race-factor?  For  my  own  part,  I  doubt  if  ideas  ever  get  into 
the  blood  or  feelings  and  dispositions  that  depend  on  partic- 
ular ideas.  The  Chinaman  is  not  born  a  conservative,  the 
Turk  a  fatalist,  the  Hindoo  a  pessimist,  the  Semite  a  mono- 
theist.  Notions  and  beliefs  do  not  become  fixed  race-charac- 
ters, nor  do  the  emotions  and  conduct  connected  with  them 
become  congenital.  Yet,  considering  how  differently  the 
peoples  have  been  winnowed  and  selected  by  their  respective 
environments,  occupations,  and  histories,  I  see  no  reason  why 
there  should  not  arise  between  them  differences  in  motor  and 
emotional  response  to  stimulus. 

Even  now  in  the  same  stock,  nay,  even  in  the  same  family, 
we  find  congenital  differences  in  the  strength  of  the  sex-appe- 
tite, in  the  taste  for  liquor,  in  the  craving  for  excitement,  in  1 
migratoriness,  in  jealousy,  in  self-control,  in  capacity  for  regu- 
lar labor,  in  the  spirit  of  entCx  prise,  in  the  power  to  postpone 
gratification — differences  which  defy  eradication  by  example 
or  instruction.  If  such  diversities  declare  themselves  with- 
in a  people,  why  not  between  peoples?  Will  not  a  destruc- 
tive environment  select  the  sensual,  a  bountiful  environment 
the  temperate,  a  niggardly  environment  the  laborious,  a  ca- 
pricious environment  the  fore-looking?  Will  not  the  restless 
survive  under  nomadism,  the  bold  under  militancy,  the  supple 
under  slavery,  the  calculating  in  an  era  of  commerce,  the 
thrifty  in  an  epoch  of  capitalism?     Since  intellectual  gains 

355 


FOUNDATION?;  OF  SOCIOLOGY       ^ 

The  first  cause  of  race  superiority  to  which  I  in- 
vite your  attention  is  a  physiological  trait,  namely, 
climatic  adaptability.  Just  now  it  is  a  grave  ques- 
tion whether  the  flourishing  and  teeming  peoples  of 
the  North  Temperate  zone  can  provide  outlets  for 
their  surplus  population  in  the  rich  but  undeveloped 
lands  of  the  tropics.  Their  superiority,  economic 
and  military,  over  the  peoples  under  the  vertical  sun 
is  beyond  cavil.  But  can  they  assert  and  profit  by 
this  superiority  save  by  imposing  on  the  natives  of 

are  indefinitely  communicable,  men  do  not  survive  according 
to  their  predisposition  to  have  or  not  to  have  a  certain  ad- 
vantageous idea  or  belief.  But  modes  of  response  to  stimulus 
are  not  so  generalized  by  imitation.  Men  change  their 
thoughts  but  not  their  elementary  reactions,  and.  since  accord- 
ing to  these  reactions  they  survive  or  perish,  it  is  possible  for 
motor  and  emoilonfil  difrerences  to  arise  between  peoples  one 
in  blood,  but  unlike  in  social  history. 

Let  the  social  psychologist  account  for  the  cultural  differ- 
ences between  peoples  and  for  the  moral  differences  that 
hinge  on  some  cultural  element.  Only  the  simple  undecom- 
posable  reactions  involving  no  conceptual  element  would  fall 
to  the  race-psychologist.  Of  course,  it  is  not  easy  to  tell 
which  characteristics  are  elementary.  Once  we  thought  the 
laziness  of  the  anaemic  Georgia  cracker  came  from  a  wrong 
ideal  of  life.  Now  we  charge  it  to  the  hook-worm  and  admin- 
ister thymol  instead  of  the  proverbs  of  Poor  Richard.  The 
negro  is  not  simply  a  black  Anglo-Saxon  deficient  in  schooling, 
but  a  being  who  in  strength  of  appetites  and  in  power  to  con- 
trol them  differs  considerably  from  the  white  man.  Many  of 
the  alleged  differences  between  Chinese  and  Occidentals  will 
be  wiped  out  when  East  and  West  come  to  share  in  a  common 
civilization.^  But  it  will  be  found  perhaps  that  the  Occidental's 
love  of  excitement,  speculation,  sport,  and  fighting  flows  from 
his  greater  restlessness  due  to  a  thousand  years  less  of  school- 
ing in  industrialism  than  the  Chinese  have  had.  Again,  those 
who  imagine  that  by  imparting  to  Hindoos  or  Cinghalese  our 
theolo^  the  missionary  endows  them  with  our  virtues  and 
capacities,  certainly  fail  to  appreciate  how  much  these  depend 
on  certain  elementary  motor  reactions." 

3S6 


THE   CAUSES    OF   RACE   SUPERIORITY 

the  tropics  the  odious  and  demoralizing  servile  rela- 
tion ?  Can  the  white  man  work  and  multiply  in  the 
tropics,  or  will  his  role  be  limited  to  commercial  and 
industrial  exploitation  at  a  safe  distance  by  means  of 
a  changing,  male  contingent  of  soldiers,  officials, 
business  agents,  planters  and  overseers? 

The  answer  is  not  yet  sure,  but  the  facts  bearing 
on  acclimatization  are  not  comforting  to  our  race. 
Immunity  from  the  fevers  that  waste  men  in  hot, 
humid  climates  seems  to  be  in  inverse  ratio  to  en- 
ergy. The  French  are  more  successful  in  tropical 
settlement  than  the  Germans  or  the  English.  The 
Spanish,  Portuguese  and  Italians  surpass  the  French 
in  almost  equal  measure.  When  it  comes  to  settling 
Africa,  instead  of  merely  exploring  or  subduing  it, 
the  peoples  may  unexpectedly  change  their  roles. 
With  all  their  energy  and  their  numbers  the  Anglo- 
Saxons  appear  to  be  physiologically  inelastic,  and  in- 
capable of  making  of  Guiana  or  the  Philippines  a 
home  such  as  they  have  made  in  New  Zealand  or 
Minnesota.  In  the  tropics  their  very  virtues — ^their 
push,  their  uncompromising  standards,  their  aver- 
sion to  intermarriage  with  the  natives  —  are  their 
destruction. 

Ominous,  on  the  other  hand,  is  the  extraordinary 
power  of  accommodation  enjoyed  by  the  Mongo- 
lians. Says  Professor  Ripley:  "The  Chinese  suc- 
ceed in  Guiana  where  the  white  man  cannot  live; 
and  they  thrive  from  Siberia  where  the  mean  tem- 
perature is  below  freezing,  to  Singapore  on  the 
357 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

equator."*  There  are  even  some  who  beheve  that 
the  Chinaman  is  destined  to  dispossess  the  Malay  in 
southwestern  Asia  and  the  islands  of  the  Pacific, 
and  the  Indian  in  the  tropical  parts  of  South  Amer- 
ica,^ 

There  is,  indeed,  such  a  thing  as  acclimatization ; 
but  this  is  virtually  the  creation  at  a  frightful  cost 
of  a  new  race  variety  by  climatic  selection.  We  may 
therefore  regard  his  lack  of  adaptability  as  a  handi- 
cap which  the  white  man  must  ever  bear  in  compet- 
ing with  black,  yellow,  or  brown  men.  His  sciences 
and  his  inventions  give  him  only  a  temporary  advan- 
tage, for,  as  the  facilities  for  diffusion  increase,  they 
must  pass  to  all.  Even  his  educational  and  political 
institutions  will  spread  wherever  they  are  suitable. 
All  precedence  founded  on  the  possession  of  maga- 
zine rifles,  or  steam,  or  the  press,  or  the  Christian  re- 
ligion, must  end  as  these  elements  merge  into  one 
all-embracing,  everywhere  diffused,  cosmopolitan 
culture.  Even  the  advantage  conferred  upon  a  race 
by  closer  political  cohesion,  or  earlier  development 
of  the  state,  cannot  last.  Could  we  run  the  com- 
ing centuries  through  a  kinetoscope,  we  should  see 
all  these  things  as  mere  clothes.  For,  in  the  last 
analysis,  it  is  solely  on  its  persistent  physiological  and 
psychological  qualities  that  the  ultimate  destinies  of 
a  race  depend. 

The  next  truth  to  which  I  invite  your  attention  is. 
that  one  race  may  surpass  another  in  energy.    The 

^  "The  Races  of  Europe,"  p.  565. 

*  Pearson,  "National  Life  and  Character,"  ch.  I. 

358 


THE   CAUSES    OF   RACE   SUPERIORITY 

average  of  individual  energy  is  not  a  fixed  race  at- 
tribute, for  new  varieties  are  constantly  being  cre- 
ated by  migration.  The  voluntary,  unassisted  mi- 
gration of  individuals  to  lands  of  opportunity  tends 
always  to  the  upbuilding  of  highly  energetic  com- 
munities and  peoples.  To  the  wilderness  go,  not  the 
brainiest  or  noblest  or  highest  bred,  but  certainly 
the  strongest  and  the  most  enterprising.  The  weak- 
ling and  the  sluggard  stay  at  home,  or,  if  they  are 
launched  into  the  new  conditions,  they  soon  go  un- 
der. The  Boers  are  reputed  to  be  of  finer  physique 
than  their  Dutch  congeners.  In  America,  before  the 
days  of  exaggerated  immigration,  the  immigrants 
were  physically  taller  than  the  people  from  which 
they  sprang,  the  difference  amounting  in  some  in- 
stances to  an  average  of  more  than  an  inch.  By 
measurements  taken  during  the  Civil  War  the  Scotch 
in  America  were  found  to  exceed  their  countrymen 
by  two  inches.  Moreover,  the  recruits  hailing  from 
other  states  than  those  in  which  they  had  been  born 
were  generally  taller  than  those  who  had  not 
changed  their  residence.  The  Kentuckians  and  the 
Texans  have  become  proverbial  for  stature,  while  the 
surprising  tallness  of  the  ladies  who  will  be  found 
shopping,  of  an  afternoon,  on  Kearney  street  in  San 
Francisco,  testifies  to  the  bigness  of  the  "forty- 
niners."  Comparative  weights  tell  the  same  tale. 
Of  the  recruits  in  our  Civil  War,  the  New  England- 
ers  weighed  140  pounds,  the  Middle  State  men  141 
pounds,  the  Ohians  and  Indianans  145  pounds,  and 
359 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

the  Kentuckians  150.^  Conversely,  where,  as  in 
Sardinia,  the  population  is  the  leavings  of  continued 
emigration,  the  stature  is  extraordinarily  low. 

This  principle  that  repeated  migrations  tend  to 
Vthe  creation  of  energetic  races  of  men,  opens  up  en- 
chanting vistas  of  explanation  in  the  jungle  of  his- 
tory. Successive  waves  of  conquest  breaking  over 
a  land  like  Sicily  or  India  may  signify  that  a  race, 
Vvonce  keyed  up  to  a  high  pitch  of  energy  by  gradual 
migration  from  its  ancient  seats,  tends  to  run  down 
as  soon  as  such  beneficent  selections  are  interrupted 
by  success,  and  settlement  in  a  new  home.  Can- 
kered by  a  long  quiet  it  falls  a  prey  in  a  few  centu- 
ries to  some  other  people  that  has  likewise  been 
keyed  up  by  migration. 

Again,  this  principle  may  account  for  the  fact 
that  those  branches  of  a  race  achieve  the  most  bril- 
liant success  which  have  wandered  the  farthest  from 
their  ancestral  home.  Of  the  Mongols  that  bor- 
rowed the  old  Babylonian  culture,  those  who  pushed 
across  Asia  to  the  Yellow  Sea,  have  risen  the  high- 
est. The  Arabs  and  Moors  that  skirted  Africa  and 
won  a  home  in  far-away  Spain,  developed  the  most 
brilliant  of  the  Saracenic  civilizations.  Hebrews, 
Dorians,  Quirites,  Rajputs,  Hovas  were  far  invad- 
ers. No  communities  in  classic  times  flourished  like 
the  cities  in  Asia  created  by  the  overflow  from 
Greece.  Nowhere  under  the  Czar  are  there  such 
vigorous,   progressive   communities   as   in    Siberia. 

^  Shalers,  "The  United  States  of  America,"  vol.  II,  p.  454, 
note. 

360 


THE   CAUSES    OF  RACE   SUPERIORITY 

By  the  middle  of  this  century,  perhaps,  the  Russian 
on  the  Yenesei  or  the  Amur  will  be  known  for  his 
"push"  and  "hustle"  as  is  to-day  the  American  on 
Lake  Michigan  or  Puget  Sound.  It  is  perhaps  on 
this  principle  that  the  men  who  made  their  way  to 
the  British  Isles  have  shown  themselves  the  most 
masterful  and  achieving  of  the  Germanic  race; 
while  their  offshoots  in  America  and  Australia,  in 
spite  of  some  mixture,  show  the  highest  level  of  in- 
dividual efficiency  found  in  any  people  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  breed.  Even  in  America  there  is  a  difference 
between  the  East  and  the  West.  The  listlessness 
and  social  decay  noticeable  in  many  of  the  rural 
communities  and  old  historic  towns  on  the  Atlantic 
slope,  are  due,  no  doubt,  to  the  loss  of  their  more 
energetic  members  to  the  rising  cities  and  to  the 
virile  West. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  form  of  society  which  z' 
race  adopts  is  potent  to  paralyze  or  to  release  its  en- 
ergy. In  this  respect  Americans  are  especially  for- 
tunate, for  their  energies  are  stimulated  to  the  ut- 
most by  democracy.  I  refer  not  to  popular  govern- 
ment, but  to  the  fact  that  with  us  social  status  de- 
pends little  on  birth  and  much  on  personal  success. 
I  will  not  deny  that  money,  not  merit,  is  frequently 
the  test  of  social  standing,  and  that  Titania  is  often 
found  kissing  "the  fair  long  ears'*  of  some  Bottom  ; 
but  the  commercial  spirit,  even  if  it  cannot  lend  so- 
ciety nobility  or  worth,  certainly  encourages  men  to 
striA^e. 

Where  there  is  no  rank  or  title  or  monarch  to  con- 
361 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

secrate  the  hereditary  principle,  the  capillarity  of 
society  is  great,  and  ambition  is  whetted  to  its  keen- 
est edge.  For  it  is  hope  not  need  that  animates  men. 
Set  ladders  before  them  and  they  will  climb  until 
their  heart-strings  snap. 

Without  a  social  ladder,  without  infection  from  a 
leisure  class  that  keys  up  its  standard  of  comfort,  a 
body  of  yeomen  settling  in  a  new  and  fertile  land 
will  be  content  with  simplicity  and  rude  plenty.  A 
certain  sluggishness  prevails  now  among  the  Boers, 
as  it  prevailed  among  the  first  settlers  beyond  the 
Alleghanies.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  a  social 
ladder,  but  it  is  occupied  by  those  of  a  military  or 
hereditary  position,  as  in  the  Spanish  communities 
of  the  southwest,  there  is  likewise  no  stimulus  to 
energy.  But  if  vigorous  men  form  new  communi- 
ties in  close  enough  touch  with  rich  and  old  com- 
V  munities  to  accept  their  exacting  standards  of  com- 
fort, without  at  the  same  time  accepting  their  social 
ranking,  each  man  has  the  greatest  possible  incen- 
tive to  improve  his  condition.  Such  has  been  the  re- 
lation of  America  to  England,  and  of  the  West  to 
the  East. 

This  is  why  America  spells  Opportunity.  In- 
spired by  hope  and  ambition  the  last  two  generations 
of  Americans  have  amazed  the  world  by  the  breath- 
less speed  with  which  they  have  subdued  the  western 
half  of  the  continent,  and  filled  the  wilderness  with 
homes  and  cities.  Never  has  the  world  seen  such 
prodigies  of  labor,  such  miracles  of  enterprise,  as 
the  creation  within  a  single  lifetime  of  a  vast  or- 
362 


THE   CAUSES    OF  RACE   SUPERIORITY 

dered,  civilized  life  between  the  Mississippi  and  the 
Pacific.  Witnessing  such  lavish  expenditures  of 
human  force,  can  we  wonder  at  American  "rush," 
American  nervousness  and  heart  failure,  at  gray- 
hairs  in  the  thirties  and  old  age  in  the  fifties,  at  our 
proverb  "Time  is  money!"  and  at  the  ubiquitous 
American  rocking  chair  or  hammock  which  enables 
a  tired  man  to  rest  very  quickly ! 

Closely  related  to  energy  is  the  virtue  of  self-re- 
liance. There  is  a  boldness  which  rises  at  the  el- 
bow touch  of  one's  fellows,  and  there  is  a  stout- 
heartedness which  inspires  a  man  when  he  is  alone. 
There  is  a  courage  which  confronts  resolutely  a 
known  danger,  and  a  courage  which  faces  perils  un- 
known or  vague.  Now,  it  is  this  latter  quality — self- 
reliance — which  characterizes  those  who  have  mi- 
grated the  oftenest  and  have  migrated  as  individu- 
als. On  our  frontier  has  always  been  found  the 
Daniel  Boone  type,  who  cared  little  for  the  support 
of  his  kind  and  loved  danger  and  adventure  for  its 
own  sake.  The  American's  faith  in  himself  and 
confidence  in  the  friendliness  of  the  unknown  may 
be  due  to  his  enlightenment,  but  it  is  more  likely  the 
unapprehensiveness  that  runs  in  the  blood  of  a  pio- 
neering breed.  Sometimes,  as  in  the  successive 
trekkings  of  the  Boers  from  Cape  Town  to  the  Lim- 
popo, the  trait  most  intensified  is  independence  and 
self-reliance.  Sometimes,  as  in  the  settling  of  the 
Trans-Mississippi  region,  the  premium  is  put  on 
energy  and  push.  But  in  any  case  voluntary  migra- 
tion demands  men, 

363 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Even  in  an  old  country,  that  element  of  the  popu- 
lation is  destined  to  riches  and  power  which  excels 
in  self-reliance  and  enterprise.  Cities  are  now  the 
places  of  opportunity  and  of  prosperity,  and  it  has 
been  shown  conclusively  that,  in  the  urban  up-build- 
ing now  going  on  in  Central  Europe,  where  long- 
skull  Teutons  and  broad-skull  Celto- Slavs  are 
mingled,  the  cities  are  more  Teutonic  than  the  rural 
districts  from  which  their  population  is  recruited. 
The  city  is  a  magnet  for  the  more  venturesome,  and 
it  draws  to  it  more  of  the  long-skulled  race  than  of 
the  broad-skulled  race.  In  spite  of  the  fact  that  he 
has  no  greater  wit  and  capacity  than  the  Celt,  the 
Teuton's  superior  migrancy  takes  him  to  the  foci 
of  prosperity,  and  procures  him  a  higher  reward  and 
a  superior  social  status. 

Wherever  there  is  pioneering  or  settlement  to  do, 
self-reliance  is  a  supreme  advantage.  The  expan- 
sion of  the  English-speaking  peoples  in  the  nine- 
teenth century — the  English  in  building  their  Em- 
pire, the  Americans  in  subduing  the  West — seems 
to  be  due  to  this  trait.  Self-reliance  is,  in  fact,  a 
sovereign  virtue  in  times  of  ferment  or  displacement. 
In  static  times,  however,  other  qualities  outweigh  it, 
and  the  victory  may  fall  to  those  who  are  patient, 
obedient,  and  quick-witted,  rather  than  to  the  inde- 
pendent in  spirit.  If  this  be  so,  then  the  great  ques- 
tion of  the  hour.  What  is  to  be  the  near  destiny 
of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race?  involves  the  question 
whether  we  stand  on  the  threshold  of  a  dynamic, 
or  a  static  epoch.  If  the  former,  well  for  the 
364 


THE   CAUSES    OF  RACE   SUPERIORITY 

Anglo-Saxon;  if  the  latter,  it  may  be  the  Latins 
who,  renewing  their  faith  in  themselves,  will  forge 
ahead. 

I  think  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  we  are  entering 
a  tumultuously  dynamic  epoch.  Science,  machinery 
and  steam — our  heritage  from  the  past  century — to- 
gether constitute  a  new  economic  civilization  which 
is  destined  to  work  in  the  world  a  transformation 
such  as  the  plow  works  among  nomads.  Two  cent- 
uries ago  Europe  had  little  to  offer  Asia  in  an 
industrial  way.  Now,  in  western  Europe  and  in 
America,  there  exists  an  industrial  technique  which 
alters  the  face  of  society  wherever  it  goes.  The  ex- 
ploitation of  nature  and  man  by  steam  and  machin- 
ery directed  by  technical  knowledge,  has  the  strong- 
est of  human  forces  behind  it,  and  nothing  can  check 
its  triumphant  expansion  over  the  planet.  The 
Arab  spreads  the  religion  of  Mahomet  with  the 
Koran  in  one  hand  and  the  sword  in  the  other.  The 
white  man  of  to-day  spreads  his  economic  gospel, 
one  hand  on  a  Catling,  the  other  on  a  locom.otive. 

It  will  take  at  least  two  or  three  generations  to 
level  up  the  industrial  methods  of  continents  like 
South  America  or  Africa  or  Asia,  as  a  Jamaica,  a 
Martinique,  or  a  Hawaii  have  been  levelled  up ;  and 
all  this  time  that  race  which  excels  in  energy,  self- 
reliance  and  education  will  have  the  advantage. 
When  this  furiously  dynamic  epoch  closes,  when  the 
world  becomes  more  static,  and  uniformism  recurs,  j 
self-reliance  will  be  at  a  discount,  and  the  conditions 
will  again  favor  the  race  that  is  patient,  laborious,. 
36s 


FOUNDATIONS   OF  SOCIOLOGY 

frugal,  intelligent  and  apt  in  consolidation.  Then, 
perhaps,  the  Celtic  and  Mediterranean  races  will 
score  against  the  Anglo-Saxon. 

For  economic  greatness  perhaps  no  quality  is  more 
important  than  foresight.  To  live  from  hand  to 
mouth  taking  no  thought  of  the  morrow,  is  the  trait 
of  primitive  man  generally,  and  especially  of  the 
races  in  the  tropical  lands  where  nature  is  bounteous, 
and  the  strenuous  races  have  not  yet  made  their  com- 
petition felt.  From  the  Rio  Grande  to  the  Rio  de 
la  Plata,  the  laboring  masses,  largely  of  Indian 
breed,  are  without  a  compelling  vision  of  the  future.^ 
The  Mexicans,  our  consuls  write  us,  are  "occupied 
in  obtaining  food  and  amusement  for  the  passing 
hour  without  either  hope  or  desire  for  a  better  fu- 
ture." They  are  always  in  debt,  and  the  workman 
hired  for  a  job  asks  something  in  advance  to  buy 
materials  or  to  get  something  to  eat.  "Slaves  of 
local  attachments"  they  will  not  migrate  in  order  to 
get  higher  wages.  In  Ecuador  the  laborer  lets  to- 
morrow take  care  of  itself  and  makes  no  effort  to 
accumulate.  In  Guiana,  where  Hindoos,  Chinese, 
Portuguese,  and  Creoles  labor  side  by  side,  the  latter 
squander  their  earnings  while  the  immigrants  from 
the  old  economic  civilizations  all  lay  by  in  order  to 
return  home  and  enjoy.  In  Colombia  the  natives 
will  not  save,  nor  will  they  work  in  order  to  supply 
themselves  with  comforts.  In  British  Honduras  the 
natives  are  happy-go-lucky  negroes  who  rarely  save 

*  Consular  Reports,  "Labor  in  Foreign  Countries,"  1884,  vol. 
366 


THE   CAUSES   OF  RACE   SUPERIORITY 

and  who  spend  their  earnings  on  festivals  and  ex- 
travagances, rather  than  on  comforts  and  decencies. 
In  Venezuela  the  laborers  live  for  to-day  and  all  their 
week's  earnings  are  gone  by  Monday  morning. 
The  Brazilians  work  as  little  as  they  can  and  live, 
and  save  no  money;  are  satisfied  so  long  as  they 
have  a  place  to  sleep  and  enough  to  eat. 

Since,  under  modern  conditions,  abundant  produc- 
tion is  bound  up,  not  so  much  with  patient  toil,  as 
with  the  possession  of  ample  capital,  it  is  evident 
that,  in  the  economic  rivalry  of  races,  the  palm  goes 
to  the  race  that  discounts  the  future  least  and  is  will- 
ing to  exchange  present  pleasures  for  future  gratifi- 
cations most  nearly  at  par.  The  power  to  do  this 
depends  partly  on  a  lively  imagination  of  remote 
experiences  to  come,  partly  on  the  self-control  that 
can  deny  present  cravings,  or  resist  temptation  in 
favor  of  the  thrifty  course  recommended  by  reason. 
We  may,  in  fact,  distinguish  two  types  of  men,  the 
sensori-motor  moved  by  sense-impressions  and  by 
sensory  images,  and  the  ideo-motor  moved  by  ideas. 
For  it  is  probable  that  the  provident  races  do  not 
accumulate  simply  from  the  liveliness  of  their  antici- 
pation of  future  wants  or  gratifications,  but  from  the 
domination  of  certain  ideas.  The  tenant  who  is  sav- 
ing to  build  a  cottage  of  his  own  is  not  animated  sim- 
ply by  a  picture  of  coming  satisfactions.  All  his 
teaching,  all  his  contact  with  his  fellows,  conspire 
to  make  **home"  the  goal  of  his  hopes,  to  fill  his  hori- 
zon with  that  one  radiant  idea.  So  in  the  renter 
who  is  scrimping  in  order  to  get  himself  a  farm  as 
367 


y 


(^ 


FOUNDATION:?  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

in  the  immigrant  who  is  laying  by  to  go  back  and 
"be  somebody"  in  .the  old  country,  the  attraction  of  a 
thousand  vaguely  imagined  pleasures  is  concentrated 
in  one  irresistible  idea.  The  race  that  can  make 
'-ideas  the  lodestars  of  life  is  certain  to  supplant  a 
race  of  impulsivists  absorbed  in  sensations,  and  rec- 
ollections or  anticipations  of  sensations. 

It  is  certain  that  races  differ  in  their  attitude  to- 
ward past  and  future.  M.  Lapie^  has  drawn  a  con- 
trast between  the  Arab  and  the  Jew.  The  Arab 
remembers;  he  is  mindful  of  past  favors  and  past 
injuries.  He  harbors  his  vengeance  and  cherishes 
his  gratitude.  He  accepts  everything  on  the  au- 
thority of  tradition,  loves  the  ways  of  his  ancestors, 
forms  strong  local  attachments,  and  migrates  little. 
The  Jew,  on  the  other  hand,  turns  his  face  toward 
the  future.  He  is  thrifty  and  always  ready  for  a 
good  stroke  of  business,  will,  indeed,  join  with  his 
worst  enemy  if  it  pays.  He  is  calculating,  enterpris- 
ing, migrant  and  ambitious. 

An  economic  quality  quite  distinct  from,  fore- 
sight is  the  value  sense.  By  this  I  mean  that  facility 
of  abstraction  and  calculation  which  enables  a  man 
to  fix  his  interest  on  the  value  in  goods  rather  than 
on  the  goods  themselves.  The  mere  husbandman  is 
a  utility  perceiver.  He  knows  the  power  of  objects 
to  keep  human  beings  alive  and  happy,  and  has  no 
difficulty  in  recognizing  what  is  good  and  what  is 
not.  But  the  trader  is  a  value  perceiver.  Not  what 
a  thing  is  good  for,  but  what  it  will  fetch,  engages 

*  "Les  races  tunisiens." 

368 


THE  CAUSES  OF  RACE  SUPERIORITY 

his  attention.  Generic  utilities  are  relatively  stable, 
for  wine  and  oil  and  cloth  are  always  and  every- 
where fit  to  meet  human  wants;  but  value  is  a 
chameleon-like  thing,  varying  greatly  from  time  to 
time  and  place  to  place  and  person  to  person.  The 
successful  trader  dares  form  no  fixed  ideas  with  re- 
gard to  his  wares.  He  must  pursue  the  elusive  value 
that  hovers  now  here  and  now  there,  and  be  ready 
at  any  moment  to  readjust  his  notions.  He  must 
be  a  calculator.  He  must  train  himself  to  recognize 
the  abstract  in  the  concrete  and  to  distill  the  abstract 
out  of  the  concrete.  Economically,  then,  the  trader 
is  to  the  husbandman  what  the  husbandman  is  to  the 
hunter.  The  appearance  of  cities,  money,  and  com- 
merce puts  a  premium  on  the  man  who  can  perceive 
value.  He  accumulates  property  and  founds  a 
house,  while  his  less  skillful  rival  sinks  and  is  de- 
voured by  war  and  by  labor. 

All  through  that  ancient  world  which  produced 
the  Phoenecian,  the  Jew,  the  Greek  and  the  Roman, 
the  acquisition  of  property  made  a  difference  in  sur- 
vival we  can  hardly  understand  to-day.  Our  per 
capita  production  is  probably  three  or  four  times  as 
great  as  theirs  was,  and  hence  the  grain-handlers  of 
Buffalo  are  vastly  more  able  to  maintain  a  family 
than  were  the  grain-handlers  of  old  Carthage  or  Al- 
exandria. All  around  the  Mediterranean,  trade 
prospered  the  value  perceivers,  and  that  type  tended 
to  multiply  and  tinge  more  and  more  the  psychology 
and  ideals  of  the  classic  world.  In  ancient  society 
the  difference  in  death  rates  and  in  family-support- 
24  369 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

ing  power  of  the  various  industrial  grades  exceeded 
anything  we  are  famihar  with,  and  hence  those  who 
were  steady  and  thrifty  in  labor  or  shrewd  and  pru- 
dent in  trade  v^astly  improved  their  chances  of  sur- 
vival. Thus  the  economic  man  multiplied,  and  com- 
mercial, money-making  Byzantium  rose  on  the  ruins 
of  the  old  races.  ''Long  before  the  seat  of  empire 
was  moved  to  Constantinople,"  says  Mr.  Freeman, 
"the  name  of  Roman  had  ceased  to  imply  even  a 
presumption  of  descent  from  the  old  patricians  and 
plebeians."  "The  Julius,  the  Claudius,  the  Corne- 
lius of  those  days  was  for  the  most  part  no  Roman 
by  lineal  descent,  but  a  Greek,  a  Gaul,  a  Spaniard  or 
an  Illyrian." 

Between  the  economic  type  and  the  military  type 
there  is  abrupt  contrast,  and  the  social  situation  can- 
not well  favor  them  both  at  the  same  time.  The 
warrior  shows  passionate  courage  and  the  sway  of 
impulse  and  imagination.  The  trader  is  calculat- 
ing, counts  the  cost,  and  prizes  a  whole  skin.  From 
the  second  century  B.  C.  the  substitution  of  this  type 
for  the  old,  heroic,  Cincinnatus  type  went  on  so  rap- 
idly that  a  recent  writer  finds  congenital  cowardice 
to  be  the  mark  of  the  Roman  Senate  and  nobility 
during  the  empire.  We  all  know  the  brilliant  pic- 
ture that  Mr.  Brooks  Adams,  in  his  "Law  of  Civiliza- 
tion and  Decay,"  has  given  of  the  replacement  of  the 
military  by  the  economic  type  in  western  Europe 
since  the  Crusades. 

If  this  hypothesis  be  sound,  the  value  perceiving 
sense  is  to  be  looked  for  in  old  races  that  have  long 
370 


THE   CAUSES    OF   RACE   SUPERIORITY 

known  cities,  money  and  trade.  The  Jew  came 
under  these  influences  at  least  twelve  centuries  ear- 
lier than  did  our  Teutonic  ancestors  and  has  there- 
fore had  about  forty  or  fifty  generations  the  start  of 
us  in  becoming  economic.  Equal  or  even  greater  is 
the  lead  of  the  Chinaman.  It  is,  then,  no  wonder 
that  the  Jews  and  the  Chinese  are  the  two  most  for- 
midable mercantile  races  in  the  world  to-day,  just  as, 
in  the  Middle  Ages,  the  Greeks  and  the  Italians  were 
the  most  redoubtable  traffickers  and  money-makers 
in  Europe.  The  Scotchman,  the  Fleming,  and  the 
Yankee,  minor  and  later  economic  varieties  devel- 
oped in  the  West,  can,  indeed,  exist  alongside  the 
Jew.  The  less  mercantile  German,  however,  fails  to 
hold  his  own,  and  vents  his  wrath  in  Anti-Semitism. 
The  Slav,  unsophisticated  and  rural,  loses  invariably 
in  his  dealings  with  the  Jew,  and  so  harshly  drives  * 
him  out  in  vast  numbers. 

May  we  not,  then,  conveniently  recognize  two 
stages  in  the  development  away  from  the  barbarian  ? 
Hindoos,  Japanese,  North  Africans  and  Europeans, 
in  their  capacity  for  steady  labor,  their  foresight,  and  :S 
their  power  to  save,  constitute  what  I  will  call  the 
domesticated  races.  But  the  Jews,  the  Chinese,  the 
Parsees,  the  Armenians,  and  in  general  the  peoples 
about  the  Mediterranean  constitute  the  economic  ' 
races.  The  expurgated  and  deleted  Teuton  of  the 
West,  on  the  other  hand,  is  more  recently  from  the 
woods,  and  remains  something  of  the  barbarian  after 
all.  We  see  it  in  his  migratoriness,  his  spirit  of  ad- 
venture, his  love  of  dangerous  sports,  his  gambling 
371 


FOUNDATIONS   OF  SOCIOLOGY 

propensities,  his  craving  for  strong  drink,  his  living 
up  to  his  standard  of  comfort  whether  he  can  afford 
it  or  not.  In  quest  of  excitement  he  betakes  himself 
to  the  Far  West  or  the  Klondike,  whereas  the  Jew 
betakes  himself  to  the  Board  of  Trade  or  the  Bourse. 
In  direct  competition  with  the  more  economic  type 
the  Anglo-Saxon  is  handicapped  by  lack  of  patience 
and  financial  acumen,  but  still  his  virtues  insure  him 
a  rich  portion.  His  energy  and  self-reliance  locate 
him  in  cities  and  in  the  spacious,  thriving  parts  of 
the  earth  where  the  economic  reward  is  highest. 
Born  pioneer,  he  prospects  the  wilderness,  preempt- 
ing the  richest  deposits  of  the  precious  metals  and 
skimming  the  cream  from  the  resources  of  nature. 
Strong  in  war  and  in  government,  he  jealously 
guards  his  own  from  the  economic  races,  and  meets 
finesse  with  force ;  so  that  despite  his  less  developed 
value  sense,  more  and  more  the  choice  lands  and  the 
riches  of  the  earth  come  into  his  possession  and  sup- 
port his  brilliant  yet  solid  civilization. 

It  is  through  no  inadvertence  that  I  have  not 
brought  forward  the  martial  traits  as  a  cause  of  race 
superiority.  I  do  not  believe  that  the  martial  traits 
apart  from  economic  prowess  are  likely  in  the  future 
to  procure  success  to  any  race.     When  men  kill  one 

\  another  by  arms  of  precision  instead  of  by  stabbing 
and  hacking,  the  knell  is  sounded  for  purely  war- 
like races  like  the  Vandals,  the  Huns  and  the  Turks. 
Invention  has  so  completely  transformed  warfare 
that  it  has  become  virtually  an  extra  hazardous 
branch  of  engineering.  The  factory  system  receives 
372 


THE  CAUSES  OF  RACE  SUPERIORITY 

its  latest  and  supreme  application  in  the  killing  of 
men.  Against  an  intelligent  force  equipped  with  the 
modern  specialized  appliances  of  slaughter  no 
amount  of  mere  warlike  manhood  can  prevail.  The 
fate  of  the  Dervishes  is  typical  of  what  must  more 
and  more  often  occur  when  men  are  pitted  against 
properly  operated  lethal  machinery. 

Now,  the  war  factory  is  as  expensive  as  it  is  ef- 
fective. None  but  t^e  economic  races,  up  to  their 
eyes  in  capital  and  expert  in  managing  machinery, 
can  keep  it  running  long.  Warfare  is  becoming  a 
costly  form  of  competition  in  which  the  belligerents 
shed  each  other's  treasure  rather  than  each  other's 
blood.  A  nation  loses,  not  when  it  is  denuded  of 
men,  but  when  it  is  at  the  end  of  its  financial  re- 
sources. War  is,  in  fact,  coming  to  be  the  supreme, 
economic  touchstone,  testing  systems  of  cultivation 
and  transportation  and  banking,  as  well  as  personal 
courage  and  military  organization. 

At  the  same  time  that  war  is  growing  more  ex- 
pensive it  is  becoming  less  profitable.  The  fruits 
of  victory  are  often  mere  apples  of  Sodom.  A  de- 
cent respect  for  the  opinion  of  mankind  debars  a  civi- 
lized people  from  massacring  the  conquered  in  order 
to  plant  its  own  colonists  on  their  land,  from  en- 
slaving them,  from  bleeding  them  with  heavy  and 
perpetual  tribute.  Fortunate,  indeed,  is  the  victor  if 
he  can  extort  enough  to  indemnify  him  for  his  out- 
lay. Therefore,  at  the  very  moment  that  the  cost 
of  war  increases,  the  declining  profits  of  war  stamp 
it  as  an  industry  of  decreasing  returns.  Wealth  is  a 
373 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

means  of  procuring  victory,  but  victory  is  no  longer 
a  means  of  procuring  wealth.  A  non-martial  race 
may  easily  become  victorious  by  means  of  its  pros- 
perity, but  it  will  be  harder  and  harder  for  a  non- 
economic  race  to  become  prosperous  by  means  of  its 
victories.  Even  now  the  Turks  in  Europe  are  de- 
clining in  numbers,  and  in  spite  of  Armenian  massa- 
cres the  industrial  races  of  the  empire  are  growing 
up  through  the  top-dressing  of  oppressors.  It 
would  seem  safe  to  say  that  the  purely  warlike  traits 
no  longer  insure  race  survival  and  expansion,  and 
that  in  the  competitions  of  the  future  the  traits  which 
enhance  economic  efficiency  are  likely  to  be  the  most 
decisive. 

In  the  dim  past  when  cultures  were  sporadic,  each 
developing  apart  in  some  island  or  river  delta  or 
valley  closet,  no  race  could  progress  unless  it  bore 
its  crop  of  inventive  genius.  A  high  average  of 
capacity  was  not  so  important  as  a  few  Gutenbergs 
and  Faradays  m  each  generation  to  make  lasting  ad- 
ditions to  the  national  culture.  If  fruitful  initiatives 
were  forthcoming,  imitation  and  education  could  be 
trusted  to  make  them  soon  the  the  common  posses- 
sion of  all. 

But  when  culture  becomes  cosmopolitan,  as  it  is 
to-day,  the  success  of  a  race  turns  much  more  on  the 
efficiency  of  its  average  units  than  on  the  inventions 
and  discoveries  of  its  geniuses.  The  heaven-sent 
man  who  invents  the  locomotive,  or  the  dynamo,  or 
the  germ  theory,  confers  thereby  no  exclusive  ad- 
vantage on  his  people  or  his  race.  So  perfect  is  in- 
374 


THE  CAUSES  OF  RACE  SUPERIORITY 

tellectual  commerce,  so  complete  is  the  organization 
of  science,  that  almost  at  once  the  whole  civilized 
world  knows  and  profits  by  his  achievements. 
Nowadays  the  pioneering  genius  belongs  to  man- 
kind, and  however  patriotic  he  may  be  he  aids  most 
the  race  that  is  most  prompt  and  able  to  exploit  his 
invention.  Parasitism  of  this  kind,  therefore,  tends 
to  annul  genius  as  a  factor  in  race  survival.  During 
the  century  just  closed  the  French  intellect  has  stood 
supreme  in  its  contributions  to  civilization;  yet 
France  has  derived  no  exclusive  advantage  from  her 
men  of  genius.  It  is  differences  in  the  qualities  of 
the  common  men  of  the  rival  peoples  that  explain 
why  France  has  not  doubled  its  population  in  a  cent- 
ury, while  the  English  stock  in  the  meantime  has 
peopled  some  of  the  choicest  parts  of  the  world  and 
more  than  quadrupled  its  numbers. 

Henceforth  this  principle  of  cosmopolitanism  must 
be  reckoned  with.  Even  if  the  Chinese  have  not  yet 
vanquished  the  armies  of  the  West  with  Mauser 
rifles  supplied  from  Belgium,  there  is  no  reason  why 
that  mediocre  and  intellectually  sterile  race  may  not 
yet  defeat  us  industrially  by  the  aid  of  machines  and 
processes  conceived  in  the  fertile  brains  of  our  Edi- 
sons  and  Marconis.  Organizing  talent,  of  course, — 
industrial,  administrative,  military, — each  race  must, 
in  the  long  run,  produce  from  its  own  loins ;  but  in 
the  industrial  Armageddon  to  come  it  may  be  that 
the  laurels  will  be  won  by  a  mediocre  type  of  hu- 
manity, equipped  with  the  science  and  the  appliances 
of  the  more  brilliant  and  brain-fertile  peoples.  Not 
375 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

preponderance  of  genius  will  be  decisive,  but  more 
and  more  the  energy,  self-reliance,  fecundity,  and 
acquired  skill  of  the  average  man;  and  the  nation 
will  do  most  for  itself  that  knows  how  best  to  foster 
these  winning  qualities  by  means  of  education  and 
wise  social  institutions. 

How  far  does  moral  excellence  profit  a  race? 
Those  who  hold  that  "History  is  the  world's  Court 
of  Justice"  tell  us  that  the  weal  or  woe  of  nations 
depends  upon  morals.  Indeed,  every  flourishing 
people  lays  its  prosperity  first  to  its  religion,  and  then 
to  its  moral  code.  Climatic  adaptation  or  economic 
capacity  is  the  last  thing  to  be  thought  of  as  a  cause 
of  superiority. 

The  chief  moral  trait  of  a  winning  race  is  stability 
of  character.  Primitive  peoples  are  usually  over- 
emotional  and  poised  unstably  between  smiles  and 
tears.  They  act  quickly  if  at  all,  and  according  to 
the  impulse  of  the  moment.  The  Abyssinian,  for  ex- 
ample, is  fickle,  fleeting  and  perjured,  the  Kirghiz 
"fickle  and  uncertain,"  the  Bedouin  "loves  and  hon- 
ors violent  acts."  The  courage  of  the  Mongol  is  "a 
sudden  blaze  of  pugnacity"  rather  than  a  cool  in- 
trepidity. We  recall  Carlyle's  comparing  Gallic  fire 
which  is  "as  the  crackling  of  dry  thorns  under  a 
pot,"  with  the  Teutonic  fire  which  rises  slowly  but 
will  smelt  iron.  In  private  endeavor  perseverance, 
in  the  social  economy  the  keeping  of  promises,  and 
in  the  state  steadfastness — these  are  the  .requisites  of 
success,  and  they  all  depend  on  stability  of  charac- 
ter. Reliability  in  business  engagements  ^nd  settled 
376 


THE   CAUSES   OF  RACE   SUPERIORITY 

reverence  for  law  are  indispensable  in  higher  social 
development.  The  great  economic  characteristics  of 
this  age  are  the  tendency  to  association,  the  growth 
of  exchange,  the  increasing  use  of  capital  and  the 
greater  elaborateness  of  organization.  They  all  imply 
the  spreading  of  business  over  more  persons,  more 
space,  and  more  time,  and  the  increasing  depend- 
ence of  every  enterprise  upon  what  certain  persons 
have  been  appointed  to  do  or  have  engaged  to  do. 
Unreliable  persons  who  fail  to  do  their  duty  or  keep 
their  promises  are  quickly  extruded  from  the  eco- 
nomic organization.  Industrial  evolution,  therefore, 
places  a  rising  premium  on  reflection  and  self-con- 
trol, the  foundations  of  character.  More  and  more 
it  penalizes  the  childishness  or  frivolousness  of  the 
cheaply-gotten-up,  manana  races. 

As  regards  the  altruistic  virtues,  they  are  too  com- 
mon to  confer  a  special  advantage.  Honesty,  do- 
cility, faithfulness  and  other  virtues  that  lessen  social 
friction  abound  at  every  stage  of  culture  and  in  al- 
most every  breed.  The  ~  economic  virtues  are  a 
function  of  race;  but  the  moral  virtues  seem  rather 
to  be  a  function  of  association.  They  do  not  make 
society;  society  makes  them.  Just  as  the  joint  se- 
cretes the  lubricating  synovial  fluid  so  every  settled 
community,  if  undisturbed,  secretes  in  time  the 
standards,  ideals  and  imperatives  which  are  needed 
to  lessen  friction.  Good  order  is,  in  fact,  so  little  a 
monopoly  of  the  higher  races  that  the  attainment  of 
it  is  more  difficult  among  Americans  at  Dutch  Flat 
or  Skagway  than  it  is  among  Eskimos  or  Indians. 
377 


..^ 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Sociability  and  sympathy  are,  indeed,  serviceable  in 

promoting  cohesion  among  natural  men;  but  they 

are  of  little  account  in  the  higher  social  architecture. 

,^    The  great  races  have  been  stern  and  grasping,  with 

"^^    a  strong  property  sense.     More  and  more  the  pur- 
<^  posive  triumphs  over  the  spontaneous  association ;  so 
that  the  great  historic  social  edifices  are  built  on  con- 
currence of  aims,  on  custom  or  religion  or  law,  never 
on  mere  brotherly  feeling. 

Indeed,  the  primary  social  sentiments  are  at  vari- 
ance with  that  sturdy  self-reliance  which,  as  we  have 
seen,  enables  a  race  to  overrun  the  earth.  It  was 
observed  even  in  the  California  gold  diggings  that 
the  French  miners  stayed  together,  while  the  solitary 
American  or  Briton  serenely  roamed  the  wilderness 
with  his  outfit  on  a  burro,  and  made  the  richest 
"strikes."  To-day  a  French  railway  builder  in  Ton- 
kin says  of  the  young  French  engineers  in  his  em- 
ploy: "They  sicken,  morally  and  physically,  these 
fellows.  They  need  papa  and  mamma !  I  had  good 
results  from  bringing  them  together  once  or  twice  a 
week,  keeping  them  laughing,  making  them  amuse 
themselves  and  each  other,  in  spite  of  lack  of  amuse- 
ment. Then  all  would  go  well."  It  is  perhaps  this 
cruel  homesickness  which  induces  the  French  to  re- 
strict their  numbers  rather  than  expatriate  them- 
selves to  over-sea  colonies.     Latin  sociability  is  the 

...^^^  fountain  of  many  of  the  graces  that  make  life  woith 
^   living,  but  it  is  certainly  a  handicap  in  just  this  crit- 
ical epoch,  when  the  apportionment  of  the  earth 
among  the  races  depends  so  much  on  a  readiness  to 
378 


THE   CAUSES   OF  RACE   SUPERIORITY 

fight,  trade,  prospect  or  colonize  thousands  of  miles 
from  home. 

The  superority  of  a  race  cannot  be  preserved  with-  ^  /'T) 
out  pride  of  blood  and  an  uncompromising  attitude 
toward  the  lower  races.  In  Spanish  America  the 
easygoing  and  unfastidious  Spaniard  peopled  the 
continent  with  half-breeds  and  met  the  natives  half 
way  in  respect  to  religious  and  political  institutions. 
In  East  Africa  and  Brazil  the  Portuguese  showed  to- 
ward the  natives  even  less  of  that  race  aversion 
which  is  so  characteristic  of  the  Dutch  and  the  Eng- 
lish. In  North  America,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
white  men  have  rarely  mingled  their  blood  with  that 
of  the  Indian  or  toned  down  their  civilization  to  meet 
his  capacities.  The  Spaniard  absorbed  the  Indians, 
the  English  exterminated  them  by  fair  means  or  foul. 
Whatever  may  be  thought  of  the  latter  policy,  the 
net  result  is  that  North  America  from  the  Behring 
Sea  to  the  Rio  Grande  is  dedicated  to  the  highest 
type  of  civilization;  while  for  centuries  the  rest  of 
our  hemisphere  will  drag  the  ball  and  chain  of  hy- 
bridism. 

Since  the  higher  culture  should  be  kept  pure  as 
well  as  the  higher  blood,  that  race  is  stronger  which, 
down  to  the  cultivator  or  the  artisan,  has  a  strong  y^ 
sense  of  its  superiority.  When  peoples  and  races 
meet  there  is  a  silent  struggle  to  determine  which 
shall  do  the  assimilating.  The  issue  of  this  grapple 
turns  not  wholly  on  the  relative  excellence  of  their 
civilizations,  but  partly  on  the  degree  of  faith  each 
has  in  itself  and  its  ideals.  The  Greeks  assimilated 
379 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

to  themselves  all  the  peoples  about  the  Mediterra- 
nean save  the  Jew,  partly  because  the  humblest  wan- 
dering Greek  despised  "the  barbarians,"  and  looked 
upon  himself  as  a  missionary  to  the  heathen.  The 
absorbent  energy  of  the  United  States  surpasses  that 
of  any  mere  colony  probably  because  of  the  stimu- 
lus given  us  by  an  independent  national  existence. 
America  is  a  psychic  maelstrom  that  has  sucked  in 
and  swallowed  up  hosts  of  aliens.  Five  millions  of 
Germans,  for  instance,  have  joined  us,  and  yet  how 
little  has  our  institutional  development  been  deflected 
by  them!  I  dare  say  the  few  thousand  university- 
trained  Germans,  and  Americans  educated  in  Heidel- 
berg or  Gottingen,  have  injected  more  German  cul- 
ture into  our  veins  than  all  the  immigrants  that  ever 
passed  through  Castle  Garden.  There  is  no  doubt 
that  the  triumph  of  Americanism  over  these  hetero- 
geneous elements,  far  more  decisive  now  than  eighty 
years  ago,  has  been  hastened  by  the  vast  contempt 
that  even  the  native  farm-hand  or  mechanic  feels  for 
the  unassimilated  immigrant.  Had  he  been  less  sure 
of  himself,  had  he  felt  less  pride  in  American  ideals 
and  institutions,  the  tale  might  have  been  different. 

One  question  remains.  Is  the  Superior  Race  as 
we  have  portrayed  it,  able  to  survive  all  competitions 
and  expand  under  all  circumstances?  There  is,  I 
am  convinced,  one  respect  in  which  the  very  foresight 
and  will  power  that  mark  the  higher  race  dig  a  pit 
beneath  its  feet. 

In  the  presence  of  the  plenty  produced  by  its  tri- 
umphant energy  the  superior  race  forms  what  the 
380 


THE   CAUSES    OF  RACE   SUPERIORITY 

economists  call  ''a  Standard  of  Comfort,"  and  re- 
fuses to  multiply  save  upon  this  plane.  With  his 
native  ambition  stimulated  by  the  opportunity  to  rise 
and  his  natural  foresight  reinforced  by  education,  the 
American,  for  example,  overrules  his  strongest  in- 
stincts and  refrains  from  marrying  or  from  increas- 
ing his  family  until  he  can  realize  his  subjective 
standard  of  comfort  or  decency.  The  power  to 
form  and  cling  to  such  a  standard  is  not  only  one  of 
the  noblest  triumphs  of  reason  over  passion,  but  is, 
in  sooth,  the  only  sure  hope  for  the  elevation  of  the 
mass  of  men  from  the  abyss  of  want  and  struggle. 
The  progress  of  invention  held  out  such  a  hope  but 
it  has  proven  a  mockery.  Steam  and  machinery,  it 
is  true,  ease  for  a  little  the  strain  of  population  on  re- 
sources ;  but  if  the  birth-rate  starts  forward  and  the 
slack  is  soon  taken  up  by  the  increase  of  mouths,  the 
final  result  is  simply  more  people  living  on  the  old 
plane.  The  rosy  glow  thrown  upon  the  future  by 
progress  in  the  industrial  arts  proves  but  a  false 
dawn  unless  the  common  people  acquire  new  wants 
and  raise  the  plane  upon  which  they  multiply. 

Now,  this  rising  standard,  which  alone  can  pilot 
us  toward  the  Golden  Age,  is  a  fatal  weakness  when 
a  race  comes  to  compete  industrially  with  a  capable 
race  that  multiplies  on  a  lower  plane.  Suppose,  for 
example,  Asiatics  flock  to  this  country  and,  enjoying 
equal  opportunities  under  our  laws,  learn  our  meth- 
ods and  compete  actively  with  Americans.  They 
may  be  able  to  produce  and  therefore  earn  in  the 
ordinary  occupations,  say  three-fourths  as  much  as 
381 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

Americans ;  but  if  their  standard  of  life  is  only  half 
as  high,  the  Asiatic  will  marry  before  the  American 
feels  able  to  marry.  The  Asiatic  will  rear  two  chil- 
dren while  his  competitor  feels  able  to  rear  but  one. 
The  Asiatic  will  increase  his  children  to  six  under 
conditions  that  will  not  encourage  the  American  to 
raise  more  than  four.  Both,  perhaps,  are  forward- 
looking  and  influenced  by  the  worldly  prospects  of 
their  children;  but  where  the  Oriental  is  satisfied 
with  the  outlook  the  American,  who  expects  to 
school  his  children  longer  and  place  them  better, 
shakes  his  head. 

Now,  to  such  a  competition  there  are  three  pos- 
sible results.  First,  the  American,  becoming  dis- 
couraged, may  relinquish  his  exacting  standard  of 
decency  and  begin  to  multiply  as  freely  as  the  Asi- 
atic. This,  however,  is  likely  to  occur  only  among 
the  more  reckless  and  worthless  elements  of  our  pop- 
ulation. Second,  the  Asiatic  may  catch  up  our 
wants  as  well  as  our  arts,  and  acquire  the  higher 
standard  and  lower  rate  of  increase  of  the  American. 
This  is  just  what  contact  and  education  are  doing  for 
the  French  Canadians  in  New  England,  for  the  im- 
migrants in  the  West,  and  for  the  negro  in  some 
parts  of  the  South ;  but  the  members  of  a  great  cul- 
ture race  like  the  Chinese  show  no  disposition,  even 
when  scattered  sparsely  among  us,  to  assimilate  to 
us  or  to  adopt  our  standards.  Not  until  their  self- 
complacency  has  been  undermined  at  home  and  an 
^^tensive  intellectual  ferment  has  taken  place  in 
^<^hina  itself  will  the  Chinese  become  assimilable  ele- 

382 


THE  CAUSES  OF  RACE  SUPERIORITY 

ments.  Thirdly,  the  standards  may  remain  distinct, 
the  rates  of  increase  unequal,  and  the  silent  replace- 
ment of  Americans  by  Asiatics  go  on  unopposed  un- 
til the  latter  monopolize  all  industrial  occupations, 
and  the  Americans  shrink  to  a  superior  caste  able 
perhaps  by  virtue  of  its  genius,  its  organization,  and 
its  vantage  of  position  to  retain  for  a  while  its  hold 
on  government,  education,  finance,  and  the  direction 
of  industry,  but  hopelessly  beaten  and  displaced  as 
a  race.  In  other  words,  the  American  farm  hand, 
mechanic  and  operative  might  wither  away  before 
the  heavy  influx  of  a  prolific  race  from  the  Orient, 
just  as  in  classic  times  the  Latin  husbandman  van- 
ished before  the  endless  stream  of  slaves  poured  into 
Italy  by  her  triumphant  generals. 

For  a  case  like  this  I  can  find  no  words  so  apt  as 
"race  suicide."^  There  is  no  bloodshed,  no  violence, 
no  assault  of  the  race  that  waxes  upon  the  race  that 
wanes.  The  higher  race  quietly  and  unmurmuringly 
eliminates  itself  rather  than  endure  individually  the 
bitter  competition  it  has  failed  to  ward  off  from  it- 
self by  collective  action.  The  working  classes  grad- 
ually delay  marriage  and  restrict  the  size  of  the 
family  as  the  opportunities  hitherto  reserved  for  their 
children  are  eagerly  snapped  up  by  the  numerous 
progeny  of  the  foreigner.  The  prudent,  self- 
respecting  natives  first  cease  to  expand,  and  then, 
as  the  struggle  for  existence  grows  sterner  and  the 
outlook  for  their  children  darker,  they  fail  even  to 

^  This,  so  far  as  the  writer  knows,  is  the  first  use  of  a  term 
which  later  was  given  wide  currency  by  President  Roosevelt. 

383 


FOUNDATIONS   OF  SOCIOLOGY 

recruit  their  own  numbers.  It  is  probably  the  vis- 
ible narrowing  of  the  circle  of  opportunity  through 
the  infiltration  of  Irish  and  French  Canadians  that 
has  brought  so  low  the  native  birth-rate  in  New 
England. 

However  this  may  be,  it  is  certain  that  if  we  ven- 
ture to  apply  to  the  American  people  of  to-day  the 
series  of  tests  of  superiority  I  have  set  forth  to  you 
at  such  length,  the  result  is  most  gratifying  to  our 
pride.  It  is  true  that  our  average  of  energy  and 
character  is  lowered  by  the  presence  in  the  South  of 
several  millions  of  an  inferior  race.  It  is  true  that 
the  last  twenty  years  have  diluted  us  with  masses 
of  fecund  but  beaten  humanity  from  the  hovels 
of  far  Lombardy  and  Galicia.  It  is  true  that  our 
free  land  is  gone  and  our  opportunities  will  hence- 
forth attract  immigrants  chiefly  from  the  humbler 
strata  of  East  European  peoples.  Yet,  while  there 
are  here  problems  that  only  high  statesmanship  can 
solve,  I  believe  there  is  at  the  present  moment  no 
people  in  the  world  that  is,  man  for  man,  equal  to 
the  Americans  in  capacity  and  efficiency.  We 
stand  now  at  the  moment  when  the  gradual  west- 
ward migration  has  done  its  work.  The  tonic  se- 
lections of  the  frontier  have  brought  us  as  far  as 
they  can  bring  us.  The  testing  individualizing 
struggle  with  the  wilderness  has  developed  in  us 
what  it  could  of  body,  brain  and  character. 

Moreover,  free  institutions  and  universal  educa- 
tion have  keyed  to  the  highest  tension  the  ambitions 
of  the  American.  He  has  been  chiefly  farmer  and 
384 


THE  CAUSES  OF  RACE  SUPERIORITY 

is  only  beginning  to  expose  himself  to  the  deteri- 
orating influences  of  city  and  factory.  He  is  now 
probably  at  the  climax  of  his  energy  and  everything 
promises  that  in  the  centuries  to  come  he  is  destined 
to  play  a  brilliant  and  leading  role  on  the  stage  of 
history. 


35  385 


XI 


THE  VALUE  RANK  OF  THE  AMERICAN  PEOPLE* 

How  much  is  the  present  enviable  position  of 
America  due  to  the  qualities  of  her  people,  how 
much  to  the  rich  land  they  have  occupied  and  to 
the  beneficent  institutions  they  have  inherited? 
While  not  belittling  the  favor  of  environment  and 
institutions,  we  have  ground  for  thinking  that  if  in 
1800  or  1850  this  country  had  contained  instead  of 
its  then  population  an  equal  number  of  average 
English  or  French  or  Germans  its  progress  would 
have  been  less  rapid  than  it  actually  was.  The  an- 
thropologist thinks  he  can  perceive  a  distinct 
American  type,  the  formation  of  which  he  would 
attribute  not  to  climate  or  crossing  of  strains,  but 
to  the  same  process  that  creates  improved  varieties 
of  domestic  plants  or  animals — vis.,  selection. 

The  American  strain  originated  in  the  spontane- 
ous influx  of  Europeans.  Before  the  days  of  as- 
sisted or  artfully  stimulated  immigration  the  tear- 
ing up  of  the  roots  in  the  Old  World  home  required 
unusual  hardihood  and  enterprise.  It  implied  not 
only  self-reliance  and  faith  in  the  unknown,  but 
great   readiness  to  take   risk.     To  the   wilderness 

^From  The  Independent,  Nov.  10,  1904. 
386 


THE  VALUE  OF  RANK 

to  cope  with  nature  and  the  savage  go  not  always 
the  brainiest  or  noblest  or  best  bred,  but  certainly 
the  strongest  and  most  energetic.  The  weakling 
and  the  sluggard  stay  at  home,  or,  if  they  are 
launched  into  the  frontier  conditions,  they  soon  go 
under.  The  tests  to  which  pioneers  are  subjected 
are  much  more  searching  than  those  of  an  old 
society,  and  the  death-rate  is  higher.  A  differen- 
tiated society  shelters  and  carries  along  many  ill- 
adapted  that  cannot  stand  the  rude  buffets  of  life 
as  isolated  farmers  clearing  the  forest  and  planting 
crops  among  the  stumps.  The  hardships  of  pioneer 
life  pitilessly  screened  out  the  weak  and  debilitated, 
leaving  only  the  hardy  and  vigorous. 

To-day  the  lure  of  America  is  chiefly  economic. 
But  the  early  comers  panted  for  something  else  than 
easy  bread-winning.  They  sought  escape  from  the 
confinement  of  crusted-over  societies.  Too  inde- 
pendent in  spirit  to  crouch  and  fawn  and  prosper, 
they  preferred  the  hardships  of  this  untamed  land 
to  the  dictation  of  priest  and  squire  and  drill  seg- 
geant  and  employer.  The  dingers  abided  at  home, 
but  the  stalwarts  came  for  freedom's  sake,  and 
when,  even  here,  society  began  to  close  about  them 
and  to  crystallize  they  pushed  farther  into  the  wil- 
derness. To-day  among  the  vortrekkers  of  popula- 
tion in  the  valleys  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  you  find 
eagle- faced  men  who  remind  you  of  Vikings,  men 
like  the  "terrible  and  self-reliant  warriors  of  the 
Scandinavian  sagas,  like  Ragnor,  Lodbrog  or  Egil, 
son  of  Skallagrim,  who  did  not  regard  even  the 
387 


FOUNDATIONS   OF  SOCIOLOGY 

gods,  but  trusted  to  their  own  might  and  main." 
In  the  last  and  westernmost  decanting  of  our  peo- 
ple this  impatience  of  restraint  becomes  almost  a 
malady.  In  accounting  for  the  dislike  of  Arizo- 
nans  for  the  United  States  soldiers,  Owen  Wister 
says: 

**The  unthinking  sons  of  the  sage  brush  ill  tolerate  a 
thing  which  stands  for  discipline,  good  order  and  obedience ; 
and  the  man  who  lets  another  command  him  they  despise.  I 
can  think  of  no  threat  more  evil  for  our  democracy,  for  it 
is  a  fine  thing,  diseased  and  perverted — namely,  indepen- 
dence gone  drunk." 

The  energy  and  spirit  of  the  original  European 
element  have  been  intensified  by  the  innumerable 
internal  migrations  that  have  carried  the  white  race 
entirely  across  the  Continent.  It  is  the  more  am- 
bitious and  spirited  that  have  "gone  West,"  and 
since  the  younger  and  more  flourishmg  communities 
have  had  the  higher  rate  of  natural  increase  a  large 
part  of  the  American  element  in  our  population  are 
descended  from  men  who  had  the  mettle  and  pluck 
to  become  pioneers. 

What  now  are  the  salient  traits  of  the  type  thus 
formed  ? 

The  natural  physique  of  the  American  breed  is 
superior  to  that  of  European.  Even  in  the  sixties, 
after  the  average  physique  of  the  nation  had  suf- 
fered through  the  infusion  of  great  numbers  of  low- 
grade  immigrants,  the  measurements  showed  the 
native-born  volunteers  to  be  an  inch  or  an  inch  and 
a  half  taller  than  the  foreign-bom.  The  foreig^- 
3ffi 


THE  VALUE  OF  RANK 

born,  in  turn,  appeared  to  be  taller  than  the  people 
from  which  they  sprang. 

A  report  on  the  volunteer  soldiers  of  the  war 
says: 

"The  physical  qualities  which  fit  the  American  for  military 
service  consist  not  so  much  in  muscular  development  and 
height  as  in  the  toughness  of  his  muscular  fibre  and  the 
freedom  of  his  tissues  from  interstitial  fat,  whereby  active 
and  prolonged  movements  are  much  facilitated." 

Our  people,  moreover,  are  singularly  free  from 
blood  taints.  One  cannot  live  in  Central  Europe 
without  observing  that  the  signs  of  rachitis,  scrofula 
and  syphilis  are  much  more  numerous  there  than 
they  are  here. 

As  regards  American  character,  there  is  no  ques- 
tion that  its  salient  trait  is  energy  of  will.  We  see 
it  in  the  saurian  ferocity  of  business  competition,  in 
the  whirl  of  activity  that  leaves  neurasthenia,  heart 
failure  and  Bright's  disease  in  its  wake,  in  the  re- 
luctance to  "retire"  betimes,  in  the  killing  pace  of 
our  workingmen,  in  the  swift  conquest  of  the  wild- 
erness, in  our  faith  in  efficiency  as  the  only  goal  of 
education.  No  people  pardons  more  to  the  success- 
ful man  or  holds  the  persistently  poor  in  such  pity- 
ing contempt  as  weaklings  that  cannot  get  into  the 
game.  In  the  American  action  prevails  over  imag- 
ination and  reflection.  He  is  the  true  anti-Buddhist, 
the  Occidental  raised  to  the  n*^  power.  Hence  the 
American  rocking-chair,  solace  of  the  overtired. 
Hence  "Time  is  money,"  "Boil  it  down,"  "Twenty 
minutes  for  dinner,"  etc.  The  magazine  article  is 
3S9 


FOUNDATIONS   OF   SOCIOLOGY 

read  instead  of  the  book,  the  paragraph  instead  of 
the  editorial,  the  scare-head  instead  of  the  dispatch. 
To  the  women  are  relegated  religion,  literature,  art, 
social  elegancies  —  whatever,  in  short,  demands 
repose. 

The  strong  will  heeds  nothing  but  the  goal.  The 
high  voltage  American  of  the  pioneering  breed  con- 
temns hardship  and  risk,  braves  alike  White  Pass 
and  Death  Valley.  In  sport  or  in  battle  no  one 
will  stand  more  punishment  than  he.  Body,  appe- 
tites, inclinations — all  are  gripped  in  the  iron  vise 
of  his  will.  Unsparing  of  himself,  he  is  reckless 
in  sacrificing  others.  His  impulses  are  kindly,  but 
woe  to  those  whose  rights  or  lives  block  his  way ! 

The  enjoying  of  things  requires  the  passive  at- 
titude— letting  things  work  on  you.  The  reign  of 
the  active  spirit  therefore  makes  ours  a  producers' 
society  rather  than  a  consumers'  society.  We  neg- 
lect no  trifle  that  will  lower  cost,  but  overlook  little 
things  that  add  to  comfort.  In  London  there  are 
hotels  where  the  morning  paper  is  warmed  before 
it  is  handed  to  you.  In  Berlin  there  are  restaurants 
where  they  give  you  an  electric  stirrer  with  ther- 
mometer inserted  to  bring  your  beer  to  just  the 
right  temperature.  The  New  World  for  making 
money,  the  Old  World  for  spending  it.  Hence  the 
active  come  to  us,  the  idle  rich  desert  us.  We  do 
not  learn  to  dawdle  gracefully.  An  American 
crowd  never  effervesces  with  gayety  like  the  holi- 
day throng  in  Europe. 

In  this  "hustle"  civilization  preoccupation  and 
390 


THE  VALUE  OF  RANK 

hard  work  damp  lust,  that  canker  of  the  pleasure 
civilization.  The  centers  of  infection  are  fewer, 
and  the  germs  of  lubricity  can  hardly  live  in  this 
eager  forenoon  air.  The  sex  life  is  not  prominent 
\  in  our  manners  and  literature,  the  family  is  pure, 
and  there  is  an  Arcadian  frankness  between  our 
young  men  and  young  women. 

Guile  is  the  resource  of  the  feeble,  the  weapon  of 
the  downtrodden.  The  born  American,  on  the 
other  hand,  feels  able  to  win  without  stooping. 
Conscious  of  strength,  he  prefers  to  speak  the  truth 
and  play  fair,  not  as  something  due  to  others,  but  as 
something  due  to  himself.  But  for  all  that  he  owes 
it  to  himself  to  succeed.  Where  business  or  polit- 
ical competition  becomes  fierce  this  native  morality 
is,  therefore,  compromised  by  the  determination  to 
succeed  at  any  cost.  Hence  a  queer,  ring-straked 
conscience  that  does  not  stick  at  corruption,  fraud 
and  grand  larceny,  yet  keeps  faith  with  foes  and 
warns  before  striking. 

In  point  of  intellect  Americans  are  not  clearly 
differentiated  from  the  mother  stocks.  Although 
free  from  the  ox-like  "man-with-the-hoe"  —  that 
sort  finding  here  no  chance  to  survive  or  mate — we 
must  not  impute  to  ourselves  unusual  mental  ca- 
pacity. The  change  a  few  years  of  our  electrifying 
ozone  works  in  the  dull,  fat-witted  immigrant  sug- 
gests that  our  proverbial  alertness,  cleverness  and 
lucidity  betoken  stimulus  rather  than  brain  power. 
It  is,  after  all,  the  high  peaks  that  count,  and  no  one 
is  so  rash  as  to  assert  that  our  crop  of  geniuses  per 
391 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

million  is  heavier  than  that  of  Scotland  or  Switzer- 
land. It  is  only  by  counting  in  our  inventors — 
mostly  mechanical — and  our  captains  of  industry 
that  we  can  offset  our  deficit  of  eminent  men  in  lit- 
erature, art  and  science. 

Albeit  we  travel  on  a  rising  curve  of  civilization, 
anthropologically  we  are  at  our  zenith,  for  the  west- 
ward shifting  gf  people  has  slackened,  and  the  brac- 
ing selections  of  the  frontier  have  well-nigh  ceased. 
Indeed,  it  is  quite  possible  that  in  i860,  before  the 
Great  Killing  and  the  Great  Dilution,  the  human 
stuff  here  was  some  carats  finer  than  it  is  to-day. 

The  Civil  War  cost  half  a  million  men  well  above 
the  average  in  physique  and  spirit.  The  South  lost 
her  flower.  In  the  North  the  impulsive  were  deci- 
mated, while  the  calculating  stayed  at  home  and 
multiplied.  Had  this  splendid  half  million  lived 
the  Old  World  would  not  have  peopled  the  trans- 
Mississippi  region,  and  the  nomenclature  of  many  a 
Western  town  would  be  different  to-day.  The 
blood  of  the  nation  was  lastingly  impoverished  by 
that  awful  hemorrhage.  The  cheap  stucco  mani- 
kins from  Southeastern  Europe  do  not  really  take 
the  place  of  the  unbegotten  sons  of  the  granite  men 
who  fell  at  Gettysburg  and  Cold  Harbor.  Had  this 
sterling  humanity  not  been  squandered  would  the 
South  be  so  hysterical  or  the  North  so  graft-rotted 
as  is  the  case  to-day  ? 

Then  came  the  Great  Dilution  to  pull  down  the 
average. 

The  flood  of  immigration  now  flows  from  differ- 
392 


THE  VALUE  OF  RANK 

ent  sources,  and  taps  lower  human  levels  than  the 
earlier  tide.  Over-persuaded,  from  Croatia  and 
Dalmatia  and  Sicily  and  Armenia,  they  throng  to 
us,  the  beaten  members  of  beaten  breeds,  often  the 
more  aboriginal  men  that  have  been  elbowed  aside 
or  left  behind  in  the  swayings  of  the  mightier  Eu- 
ropean races.  Do  these  Slovaks  and  Syrians  add 
as  much  to  the  strength  of  the  human  piers  that 
support  our  civilization  as  Scotch- Irish  or  Scandi- 
navians ?  As  undersized  in  spirit,  no  doubt,  as  they 
are  in  body,  the  later  comers  lack  the  ancestral 
foundations  of  American  character,  and  even  if  they 
catch  step  with  us  they  and  their  children  will, 
nevertheless,  impede  our  progress. 

The  inrush  from  the  lesser  breeds  has  not  stayed 
the  march  of  industry  or  commerce  or  science  or 
education,  for  these  are  in  the  capable  hands  of 
picked  men.  But  the  newcomer  counts  one  at  the 
polls,  and  hence  it  is  in  our  politics  that  the  sag 
is  most  evident.  The  higher  types  of  men  are 
prompted  to  act  together,  because  they  believe  in  the 
same  principle  or  love  the  same  ideal.  The  inferior 
pull  togther  from  clannishness  or  allegiance  to  a 
leader.  The  growing  disposition  to  rally  about 
persons  and  the  rising  value  of  the  saloonkeeper,  the 
ex-pugilist  and  the  boss  in  controlling  city  voters 
would  indicate  that  the  electorate  has  been  debased 
by  the  too  free  admission  of  political  incapables. 

The  strife  between  labor  and  capital  has  been  ag- 
gravated by  ethnic  difference.  The  employer  has 
been  more  haughty,  the  employee  more  turbulent, 
393 


FOUNDATIONS  OF  SOCIOLOGY 

than  if  they  had  stood  on  one  race  plane.  Caste 
widens  the  gulf  between  them  and  the  Edenic  rea- 
sonableness of  the  Antipodes  is  hardly  for  us  to 
hope. 

Dilution,  however,  need  not  spell  decline.  The 
psychology  of  the  superior  third  of  a  people  creates 
the  spirit  which  ultimately  comes  to  dominate  the 
rest.  It  gives  rise  to  ideals,  which,  under  the  pres- 
sure of  divers  social  atmospheres,  penetrate  to  the 
soul's  marrow  and  become  a  second  nature.  This 
is  why,  despite  the  swelling  influx  of  the  inferior, 
that  emanation  of  the  pioneering  breed,  the  Ameri- 
can spirit,  is  still  clear,  strong  and  triumphant. 
Never  has  the  psychic  whirlwind  here  had  more 
power  to  seize  and  bear  aloft  lowly  men  than  it  has 
to-day.  The  social  body  quivers  throughout  under 
our  forced-draft  pace. 

Free  land  is  gone,  however,  and  the  fact  that 
nowadays  the  hegira  of  the  ambitious  is  all  to  the 
man-stifled  town  instead  of  to  the  spacious,  pro- 
lific frontier  may  be  fateful  for  the  American  ele- 
ment in  our  population.  The  great  glittering  cities 
attract  the  brightest  youths  from  the  farms  and 
tempt  them  to  strain  for  the  prizes  of  success.  But 
what  with  shortened  lives,  bachelorhood,  late  or 
childless  marriages,  and  small  families,  the  cities 
constitute  so  many  blast  furnaces  where  the  talented 
rise  and  become  incandescent,  to  be  sure,  but  for  all 
that  are  incinerated  without  due  replacement.  Thus 
may  run  down  a  race  keyed  up  by  the  migrations 
of  more  than  two  centuries.  War  lowered  the. 
394 


THE  VALUE  OF  RANK 

standard  of  admission  to  the  French  army  three  and 
one-third  inches  between  Louis  XIV  and  the  Third 
RepubHc,  but  in  the  meantime  siren  Paris  lowered 
still  more  the  spirit  of  initiative  of  the  French.  Un- 
less our  successful  ones  hearken  betimes  to  the 
gospel  of  the  simple  life  the  afternoon  spirit  is  sure 
to  creep  upon  us  at  last. 


395 


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Letourneau,  Ch.  La  sociologie  d'apres  Tethno- 
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1902. 

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2  vols.     New  York,  1897-99. 

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• Outlines  of  Sociology.     New  York,  1898. 

• Pure  Sociology.     New  York,  1903. 


a6  401 


INDEX 


Acclimatization,  357,  358. 
Accumulation     of     wealth,     the, 

317-225. 
Adams  Brooks,  77,  ag7-2gg,  370. 
Adaptation,  188,  189. 
Adaptationists,  the,    I90*t93. 
Aesthetic  desires,  169. 
Aesthetics,  34. 
Affective  desires,  169. 
Aggregate,  the  social,  3. 
Agriculture,    209-211,    225,    229, 

327. 
Alliance,  249. 

Altruism,  commonness  of,  377. 
Amalgamation,  race,  379. 
Americans,     the,     303,     325-327, 

361-363,  380,  384,  386-395. 
Ammon,  332. 
Analogy,  perils  of,  42-56. 
Anatomy,  social,  182. 
Anthropo-sociology,      295,      296, 

308,  318. 
Antipathy,    causes   of,    136,   263- 

265. 
Appetitive  desires,  169. 
Aristocracy,  genesis  of,  93,  211, 

218,    219,    244,    245;    supports 

of,   214-,   300,   326;    subversion 

of,  223,  226,  244. 
Artist,  the,  170,  172,  174. 
Arts,  the   fine,  24,  56,  60,   173, 

230. 
Asceticism,  300,  303,  305. 
Asiatics,  381-383. 
Assimilation,  social,  95,  196,  213, 

239,    249,    250,    252,    260-263, 

268,  269,  27s,   379-383,  394. 

403 


Association,  376-378. 

,     forms    of,    4,    5,     138, 

133.  232,  233. 

,     the  science  of,  5,  6. 

Associations,  free,  9,  146,  213. 
Auvergnat,  the,  312. 

Baldwin,  266,  267. 
Banishment,  political,  336. 
Birth-rate,    determinants   of   the, 

30,  31,    151,  341,  381-383;   re- 

strictiin  of  the,   153,  214,  216, 

344,  381-383. 
Bond,    the    social,    87,    210,   211, 

229,  232,  252,  263,  268,  271. 
Borrowing   of   culture,   the,   234- 

238. 
Bougie,  67. 
Brigandage,  315. 
Bryce,  quoted,  21,  237. 
Buckle,  10,  67,  244. 

Caius  Gracchus,  224. 

Capital,    34,    211,    217-219,    223, 

241,    247,    248,    279,    365-367. 

373»  377- 
Carey,  47. 
Caste,  45,  46,  93,  174,  187,  213, 

218-223,     246,     251-289,     361, 

387. 
Cause,  47,   55,   60-63,  65-67.  78- 

80,  151,  152,  189-199.  229-232, 

308,  311. 
Celibacy,  religious,  233,  328. 
Character,  stability  of,  376-378. 
Charity,  maleficent,  338,  339. 


INDEX 


Children,    economic    aspects    of, 

30,  31.  329,  339.  341.  381-383- 
Chinese,   the,   33,    34,    238,    287, 

356  n.,  358,  371.  375. 
Christianity,  330,  331. 
Church,  the,  187,  196,  203,  244, 

280,  297,  298,  328. 
Cities,    106,   212,  213,  216,  224, 

226,   228,    246,   247,  314,  331- 

333.  369.  394- 

Cityward     drift,     the,   *  331 -333. 

364,  394. 
Clan,  the,  211,  315. 
Classes,    social,   66,    69,   93,   96, 

187,     218-223,     277-290,     323. 

331-333.  335.  341.  362. 
Classification     of     desires,     161  • 

169. 
Climatic  adaptability,  356. 
Colonies,   50,   51,  225,  326,   328, 

329.  387- 
Commerce,    31 1,   212,    217,    224, 

239.  369. 
Commercialism,      170-174,      221, 

222,    361,    362,    389. 

Community  of  interest,  268,  269. 
Competition,  229,  288,  289,  332, 

334.  335.  340-342,  389. 
Compromise,  284,  290. 
Comte,  61,  191,  193,  306. 
Conjugation     of    societies,     249- 

253. 
Conquest,  250-253,  263. 
Consciousness   of   kind,   263-265, 

268,  269,  273,  274,  286,  339. 
Conservatism,     causes     of,     196, 

J97.  304.  323- 
Co-operation,  96,  176,  304,  305. 
Corporation,  the,  138-144. 
Correlations,    social,    12-15,    62, 

192,  229,  230. 
Corsican,  the,  314,  315. 
Cosmic  laws,  43-47. 
Cosmopolitanism,  358,  374-376. 
Council,  the,   141. 
Craze,  the,   1 09-1 11. 
Criminal  type,  the,  296. 


Cross- fertilization,  cultural,   234- 

238. 
Crowd,  the,  88,  101-106,  120-128, 

133.  134.  258-260. 
Crusades,  84,  244,  246,  297,  298. 
Cultural    differences,     169,    265, 

310. 
Culture,   borrowing   of,   234-238, 

358,  374.  375. 
Cunningham,  quoted,  240. 
Custom,  30,  50,  65,  1 12-115.  173, 

197,  226,  229. 

Darwin,  327,  329. 

Decadence,  racial,  336-339,  343- 
345.  394;  social,  52,  I57.  x88, 
189,  222,  343-345.  360,  361. 

De  Candolle,  329,  330. 

De  Greef,  50-53,  62,  69,  156; 
quoted,  56,  117. 

Deliberative  assembly,  the,  129- 
132. 

Democracy,  30,  31,  36,  37,  115, 
157.  158,  174.  214,  215,  224, 
225,  240,  246,  289,  300,  326, 
327.  335.  361. 

Demolins,  312-317. 

Desires,  10-12,  17,  18,  20,  22, 
23.  25-27,  30,  36,  37.  154-181, 
334.  347- 

Development,  social,  60-64,  '54. 
185,  197.  198,  229,  234.  359. 
297.  304. 

Differences,  human;  original, 
290-309;  derivative,  309-327, 
race,  295,  296,  353-356;  sex, 
293-295;  anthropic  type,  296, 
306-308;  psychic  type,  297-306. 

Differentiation,  economic,  93, 
218,  219,  223,  224,  247-249; 
political,  219-222,  243-245, 
251;  social,  44,  45,  48,  66,  93, 
202,  203,  214,  218-226,  240, 
245,  262,  268,  269,  274,  279, 
319-325,  332. 

Discovery,    scientific,     184.    187, 

198,  204,  231,  232,  374,  37S. 


404 


INDEX 


Discussion,  126,  196. 
Divorce,   191,  229. 
Domestication,   of  animals,    184, 

201,  230;  of  men,  302,  355  n., 

369-371- 
Dumont,  344. 
Durkheim,  92,  268,  274;  quoted, 

64,  65. 
Dynamic  processes,  97,  184. 

Economic  factors,  9,  10,  23,  26, 
61,  217-225,  226,  231,  268, 
269,  279-281,  289,  298,  301, 
311,  316,  321-327,  365. 

Economic  races,  the,  371. 

Economics,  14,  25-27,  43,  76, 
164;  frontiers  of,  29-40. 

Economism,  61,  181,  306. 

Education,     31,     113,     197,    200, 

289,  376,  389. 

Ego,  the  group,  283,  284. 
Elimination,   202,   299,  301,  328, 

333-343.  355  n.,  370,  383,  392, 

394. 
Energy,   individual,   37,   38,  359- 

363.  172,  389-391,  394- 
English,   the,    39,    130,   239,   245, 

251,    299-301,    338,    357,    361, 

364,  n2,  379- 
Ennui,  193. 

Environment,  alteration  of,  253, 

254;  transformation  of,  201; 
influence    of,    61,    79,    150-152, 

160,  194,  22(>,  253,  254,  310- 
318. 

Equalization,     social,     (tj,  241, 

246,    250,   252,   258,   281,  282, 

290,  358. 

Equilibration,  law  of   social,   46, 

47- 
Ethics,   17-19. 
Exploitation,     social,     197,     206, 

240,  248,  280,  281. 
Exteriority,  perils  of,  54-56. 

Factors  of  social  change,  189- 
194,   297-299,  308,  365. 


Factory,  origin  of  the,  190. 

Fad,  the,  111-115. 

Family,  the,  23,  24,  58,  89,  157, 

180,   211,    229,   233,   294,    313, 

314,  330. 
Fashion,  36,  37,  347. 
Fecundity,    30,    214,    216,    341, 

344,  381-383,  394- 
Ferrero,  295,  355. 
Feudalism,    187,    203,    212,    213, 

224,  242,  276,  326. 
Forces,  the  social,  149-181. 
Foresight,  366-368. 
Formation,    the    social,    88,    105, 

282-285. 
Freedom,  love  of,  21,  387,  388. 
Freeman,  quoted,   131. 
French,   the,   35,    127,    132,   234, 

242,    245,    312-315,    337,    344, 

357,  375,  378,  395. 
Functional   group,   the,   86,   2^2t 

27Z,  275, 


Galton,  328. 

Generalizations,  67. 

Genesis,   social,   95,   96,  257-262, 

283-285. 
Genetic  interpretation,  the,  s6-S9' 
Genetics,  23,  24. 
Genius,  the,  47,  66,  80,  97,   163, 

198,  227-234,  344,  374-376,  391. 
Giddings,  6,  59,  66,  70,  263,  302^ 

306;  quoted,  65,  149. 
Government,      184,      276,      290; 

forces  operating  in,  20-22,  155, 

156,    168,    17s,    176;    structure 

of,  88,  215,  226,  243,  244,  251; 

activities  of,  22^175,  176,  196, 

229. 
Great-Man  theory,  80,  227,  22Z. 
Greeks,  the,   205,  218,  223,  224, 

242,  336. 
Grosse,  quoted,   12,  24,  58. 
Group-making   factors,    265,   268, 

269,  277-285,  314,  315* 
Group-units,  1 16-148. 


405 


INDEX 


Groups,  social,  4,  44,  65,  69,  86, 
87,  12B,  196,  242,  257-271, 
272-290,  393. 

Gumplowicz,  4,  44,  S3,  59.  63, 
117,  118,  262,  277;  quoted,  56. 

Half-caste,  the,  320,  321. 

Hansen,  331. 

Haycraft,  335. 

Hebrews,  the,  235-237,  243,  245. 

Hedonism,  refutation  of,  161- 
163. 

Heterogeneous,  instability  of  the, 
44.  45. 

History,  aims  of,  81-84;  inter- 
pretation of,   180,  181. 

Hobson,  quoted,  248,  251. 

Honor,  group,  265,  321. 

Horticulture,  3 13-31 5- 

Human  achievement,  as  subject- 
matter  of  sociology,  5. 

Imitation,  7,  36,  37-39,  65,  103- 
"5,  163,  196,  221,  234-238, 
243,  260-262,  334,  339. 

Immigrants,  354,  380,  384,  392- 
394. 

Imperatives,  social,  89,  229,  304, 
305,  377. 

Improvidence,  366,  367. 

Impulses,  161,  162,  368. 

Individual,  the,  as  cause,  80,  227- 

234.  291.  374,  375- 
Individualization,  213,  268,   284, 

285,  288,  347,  389-391,  394- 
Ingram,  quoted,   14. 
Innovation,   227-234. 
Innovationists,  the,   190. 
Instincts,  161. 
Institutions,  88,  89,  93,  94,  234, 

235,  249,  252,  271,  346-348. 
Integration,    social,    44,    69,   229, 

231,  242,  243,  261,  262. 
Intellectualism,  60,  232,  306. 
Interaction   of  societies,  238-249. 
Interests,    168,    170-181,   274-290, 

348. 


Invention,     199,    203,    204,    23^, 

227-235,  372,  374-376,  381. 
Isolation,  social,  319-321. 
Israel,  235-237,  242. 

Japanese,  the,  33,  287. 
Jealousy,   155. 

Jews,  the,  35,  318-320,  368,  371. 
Jurisprudence,  comparative,  22. 
Justification  by  faith,  174,  298. 

Kent,  quoted,  236. 
Kidd,   10,  77,  333,  334- 
Kinship,  210,  211,  252,  294,  315. 
Knowledge,     social     history     of, 

178,  179,  232.  319. 
Kuczynski,  333. 

Labor,  the  time  of,  31-33,  37,  38; 
the  pace  of,  37,  38,  389;  the 
stigma  on,  93,  221,  225. 

Land,  211,  225,  247,  S^SS^?* 
384,  394- 

Lapouge,  337-339- 

Law,  22,  155,  17s,  233,  237,  267, 
338. 

Law,  the  social;  of  movement, 
43;  of  integration,  44;  of  dif- 
ferentiation, 44;  of  segrega- 
tion, 46;  of  equilibration,  46; 
of  city  attraction,  48;  of 
parallelism,  48;  of  recapitu- 
lation, 49;  of  colonial  evolu- 
tion, 51;  of  social  decadence, 
52. 

Laws,  social;  of  sequence,  56, 
227;  of  succession,  63,  64,  74; 
of  repugnance,  65;  of  mani- 
festation, 65,  66;  of  causation, 
66;  simple  vs.  compound,  69. 

Leadership,  105,  106,  121,  126, 
129,  134,  138-140,  259,  306, 
307,  315,  333. 

Learning;  esteem  of,  178,  319. 

Le  Bon,  257-260. 

Legislatures,  131,  132. 


406 


INDEX 


Leisure   class,   social  significance 

of  the,  66,  323,  334. 
Leroy-Beaulieu,  318-330. 
Letourneau,  73;  quoted,  56. 
Lilienfeld,  P.  von,  48-50. 
Loria,  9,  279,  280. 

Maine,    quoted,    218,    319,    233, 

240,  247. 
Maitland,  quoted,  138  n. 
Maltkus,  29,  30. 
Mammon,    history    of,     171-174, 

221,  222. 
Marriage,     174,    329,    332,    335, 

338,  342.  347,  383. 
Mass-meeting,  128. 
Matteuzi,  317. 

Metchnikoff,  quoted,  201,  238. 
Middle  Ages,  the,  213,  224,  239, 

328. 
Migration,    225,    226,    240,    241, 

331-333.  344.  359-364,  386-388. 
Mill,  J.  S.,  quoted,  17,  61. 
Mis-selections,     social,     328-330, 

333.  335-339.  34i.  348.  392. 
Mob,  the,  101-106,  120-127. 
Mohammedans,     the,     232,    233, 

238. 
Mommsen,  quoted,  215,  220,  222, 

245,  248,  257,  252. 
Monarchy,    212,    214,    224,    243, 

244,  246,  251,  313. 
Monogamy,  51,  88,  89,  155,  180, 

330,  338. 
Morality,    18,    19.   67,    122,    123, 

143-145.    191.    218,    222,    230, 

270,   271,   286,   320,   321,   324, 

338,  376-378.  391- 
Morality,    collective,     102,  _   122, 

123,  143-146. 
Morgan,  56;  quoted,  57. 
Nation-making,     249,     252,     275, 

276,  287,  289,  290,  325. 
Natural  selection,  327,  331,  334, 

340-343.  359,  360. 

Needs,  as  social  forces,  152-154- 


Nieboer,  quoted,  69. 
Nietzsche,  330,  331. 
Noetics,  24. 
Novicow,  280,  281. 

Occident,  Occidentals,  241,  248, 

339,  355  n.,  371,  372,  381-383 

389. 
Occupation,  significance  of,  311, 

316,  321,  322. 
Opportunity,    59,   213,  223,   225, 

32J,  359^362,  364,  372,  384. 
Organism,    the    social,    3,   9,    48, 

154-156,    272,    273,    276,    283, 

343- 
Organization,   138-140,  376-378. 
Orient,  Orientals,  241,  248,  310, 

339,  381-383. 
Over-strain,  363,  389. 

Pastoralism,    208-210,    225,    312, 

326. 
Patriarchal  regime,  the,  197,  211. 
Patriotism,  145,  275,  276,  287. 
Patten,  64,  299-302. 
Persecution,  religious,  328. 
Personality,  growth  of  the,   158- 

160,  174,  266,  267,  305. 
Phenomena,  social,  3,  6,  7,  12-15. 
Philosophy    of   history,    the,    54, 

71-73,  76,  79. 
Physique,     the     American,     359, 

388,  389- 
Pioneer    spirit,    the,     363,    364, 

372,  378,  387.  388,  394- 
Pleasure,  as  goal,  156, 161-163. 
Plebs,  the,  219,  246,  247. 
Plutocracy,    214,    219-223,    226, 

245,  247,  348,  339. 
Politics,   19-22. 
Polygamy,  58,  180,  330,  339- 
Population,  the  growth  of,   207- 

217,  226,  231,  334.  375.  381. 

,     original    differences    in, 

290-309. 

,     derivative       differences 

in,  309,  327* 


407 


INDEX 


Power,  the  concentration  of,  140- 

143. 
Press,  the,  108,  134- 
Pride  of  race,  379,  380. 
Primogeniture,  329. 
Processes,     social,     91-99.      150, 

Products,  social,  90-94,  160,  381, 

394- 
Progress,   social,   57,   58,  63,  64, 

126,     185,    188,    231-235,    346, 

347.  381. 
Property,  89,  153,  206,  323,  327, 

329.  369- 
Prophets  of  Israel,  the,  232,  236. 
ProvenQal,  the,  313,  314. 
Psycho-social  phenomena,  3,  4. 
Public,  the,   107-109,  133-135. 
Public    opinion,    135,    226,    279. 

288. 
Punishment,  203,  338. 
Puritans,  the,  301-303. 


Race,    79,    19s,    196,    202,    264, 

286,   29s,   296,   309,   310,   316- 

318,  353-356,  386-395- 
Race  competition  381-384. 
Race  mixture,  379. 
Race  progress,  334,  338,  384. 
Race  suicide,  383. 
Race  superiority,  causes  of,  353- 

380. 
Ratzenhofer,    63,    68,    166,    282, 

285,  306-308. 
Reformation,  the  Protestant,  232, 

298. 
Regulative    apparatus,    the,    2T2, 

290. 
Religion,  155,  157,  169,  I73,  I74. 

176-178,     184,    206,    218,    229, 

232,   236,    237,    243,    244,   280, 

330. 
Religion,  the  science  of,   16,   17. 
Ribot,  quoted,  52. 
Ripley,  quoted,  318,  357. 


Romans,  the,  187,  214,  217,  220, 
222,  224,  234,  245,  248,  251, 
252,  336. 

Rules  of  order,  the,  130-132. 

Sabbath,  the,  32,  33. 

Schaffle,   quoted,  291. 

Schreiner,  Miss,  320,  321. 

Science,  24,  25,  178,  179,  204, 
232,  238.  375- 

Secrecy,   137. 

Sect,  the,  135-137. 

Seeck,  336;  quoted,  186. 

Segregation,  social,  46,  136,  137, 
273. 

Selections,  social,  202,  216,  257, 
327-348,  369.  387- 

Self  reliance,  363-365. 

Sensuality,  355. 

Sex,  social  significance  of,  293- 
295. 

Sex  relations,  13,  23,  58,  155, 
157,  174.  180,  229,  330,  391. 

Sigel,  quoted,  244. 

Simmel,  4,   1 18,  265. 

Simons,  Miss,  67,  262. 

Slavery,  199,  203,  210,  211,  226, 
229,  240,  245.  248. 

Small,  165. 

Smith,  W.  Robertson,  69. 

Sociability,  378, 

Social  causation,  9,  13,  26,  56- 
62,  66,  67,  78-80,  150-152,  160, 
189,  190,  193,  195,  200,  229- 
231.  3".  316. 

Social  change,  notion  of,  185- 
189;  causation  of,  189-194; 
obstacles  to,  195,  196;  types 
of,  197-199;  Actors  of,  199- 
254;  gradualness  of,  207;  im- 
minence of,   365. 

Social  control,  267,  270,  271. 

Social  dynamics,  183,  184.  186, 
189. 

Social  factors,  in  progress  of  the 
sciences  and  the  fine  arts,  24, 
25;   in  aversion  to   labor,   25; 


408 


INDEX 


in  consumption  of  wealth,  27, 
36,  214;  in  fecundity,  29-31; 
in  the  time  of  labor,  32,  33; 
in  commercial  probity,  33,  34; 
in  migration,  35;  in  commerce, 
35;  in  the  genesis  of  wants, 
36,  37,  163,  334;  in  economic 
quantities,  38,  39;  in  values, 
39;  in  selection,  340-348. 

Social  geography,  312-317. 

Social  laws,  41-70. 

Social  mechanics,  156-161. 

Social  morphology,  5,  182. 

Social  pathology,  182. 

Social  psychology,  8,  182,  257- 
271. 

Social  sciences,  relation  of  to 
sociology,  8-28. 

Social  statics,  183,  184. 

Social  uniformities,  89,  90. 

Socialization,  127,  239,  242,  243, 
249,    250,    252,    256-271,    281, 

282,  284. 

Sociology,  scope  and  task,  3-28; 
subject-matter,  3-8;  relation  to 
the  social  sciences,  8-28;  rela- 
tion to  economics,  40;  origin, 
42;  wrong  methods,  42,  54-56; 
unit  of  comparison,  76-80;  re- 
lation to  history,  81-84;  unit  of 
investigation,  85-99;  chart,  95- 
99;  psychic  nature,  160,  161; 
divisions,  182-184;  prediction 
in,  227. 

Specialization,  44,  268,  269. 

Spencer,  42-47.  67.  73.  I49,  IS4; 
quoted,  116,  155,  257,  291. 

Standard,  the  ultimate,  346. 

Standard  of  comfort,  329.  381- 
383. 

State,    the,    176,    275,    278,    281, 

283,  331;  functions  of  the,  20- 
22,_i88,    189,    254;    forms    of 

59,  175,  228. 
)ochs      and      dynamic 

r,  364, 365- 


Statico-dynamic     processes,     200- 

204. 
Statistical   method,    the,    80,   81, 

345- 
Stetson,  Mrs.,  323-325. 
Stimuli,  206-254. 
Struggle,        man-to-man,        287; 

group-to-group,     272-290,     315, 

336,  337.  393- 
Struggle  for  existence,  the,  334, 

340-343- 
Stuckenberg,   167,   168. 
Subject-matter  of  sociology,  3-8. 
.Suggestion,     103-105,     107,     108, 

120-122,  196,  257,  258,  260. 

Tangent  group,  the,  137. 

Tarde,  7,  44,  65,  66,  68,  119, 
260-262,  275;  quoted,  6,  57,  75, 
261. 

Technique,  change  in,  172,  173, 
187. 

Temperance,  191,  302,  339. 

Thomas,  293-295. 

Tiele,  68;  quoted,  63. 

Transmutations,  204,  205. 

Transportation,  48,  49,  231. 

Trial  and  error,  method  of,  203, 
204. 

Tropics,  settlement  of  the,  357; 
labor  in  the,  366. 

Turner,  quoted,  325. 

Types,  psychic,  297-306,  367, 
368;  anthropic,  296,  306-308, 
386-391;  local,  310-317;  so- 
cial, 318-327. 

Underbreeding,  153. 
Uniformities,  social,  89,  90. 
Unit  of  investigation,  the,  7I-99- 
Utility,  the  law  of  greatest,  164. 

Vaccaro,  281,  282. 

Value  sense,  the,  368-372. 

Veblen,  66,  322;  quoted,  321. 

Vendetta,  the,  315. 

Venice,  251. 

Vico,   10,  74. 


409 


INDEX 


Ward,  5,  54,  64,  65,  68,  154,  166, 

''^r.  325. 

Warfare,  216,  217,  229,  231, 
242-247,  251,  261,  276,  287, 
329.  336.  337»  339,  372-374. 
392,  395- 

Wealth,  26,  2T,  36,  168,  170-175, 
217-225,  299,  323,  339,  390; 
the  inheritance  of,  329,  339. 

West,  the,  325-327.  361,  387, 
388. 


Winiarski,    156-158. 

Wisdom,  collective,  I23-I27,  129- 

132,  138-143- 
Wister,  quoted,  388. 
Woman,  status  of,  174,  191,  210, 

279.  293-295.  333-325.  347. 
Work,     differentiation     through, 

3".  316,  321,  3aa. 
Worship,  176-178. 


%i^ 


410 


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